And open'd there a Font for all Mankind,

Who ftrive, who combat Crimes, to drink, and live This, only this fubdues the Fear of Death.

And what is This?-Survey the wond'rous Cure: And at each Step, let higher Wonder rife! "Pardon for infinite Offence! and Pardon

"Thro' Means that speak its Value infinite! "A Pardon bought with Blood! with Blood Divine ! "With Blood Divine of Him I made my Foe "Perfifted to provoke! tho' woo'd, and aw'd, "Bleft, and chaftiz'd, a flagrant Rebel ftill! "A Rebel 'midft the Thunders of his Throne ! "Nor I alone! a Rebel Universe!

"My Species up in Arms! not One exempt! "Yet for the fouleft of the Foul He dies.

"Moft joy'd for the Redeem'd from deepest Guilt!

As if our Race was held of highest Rank ;

"And Godhead dearer, as more kind to Man !?
Bound ev'ry Heart! and ev'ry Bofom burn!:
Oh what a Scale of Miracles is here!
Its lowest Round, high-planted on the Skies;
Its tow'ring Summit loft beyond the Thought
Of Man, or Angel: Oh that I could climb.
The wonderful Afcent, with equal Praise !
Praife! flow for ever (if Aftonishment

Will give thee Leave) my Praise! for ever flow;
Praise Ardent, Cordial, Conftant, to High Heav'n-
More fragrant than Arabia facrific'd;

And all her spicy Mountains in a flame.

So dear, fo due to Heav'n, fhall Praise defcend
With her foft Plume, (from plaufive Angels wing,
Firft pluck'd by Man) to tickle mortal Ears,
Thus diving in the Pockets of the Great?
Is Praife the Perquifite of ev'ry Paw,,

Tho' black as Hell, that grapples well for Gold??
Oh love of Gold ! thou meaneft of Amours!

Shall

&

Shall Praise her Odours wafte on Virtue's Dead,
Embalm the Bafe, perfume the Stench of Guilt,
Earn dirty Bread by washing Æthiops fair,
Removing filth, or finking it from fight,
A Scavenger in Scenes, where vacant Pofts,
Like Gibbets, yet untenanted, expect

Their future Ornaments? From Courts, and Thrones
Return, apoftate Praife! Thou Vagabond!

Thou Proftitute! to thy firft Love return,
Thy firft, thy greateft, once unrivall'd Theme.
There flow redundant; like Meander flow

Back to thy Fountain; to that parent Pow'r,
Who gives the Tongue to found, the Thought to foar
The Soul to Be. Men homage pay to Men,
Thoughtless beneath whofe dreadful Eye they bow
In mutual Awe profound, of Clay to Clay,
Of Guilt to Guilt, and turn their Backs on Thee,
Great Sire! whom Thrones.celestial ceaseless fing;
To proftrate Angels an amazing Scene!

Oh the Prefumption, of Man's Awe for Man'!"
Man's Author! End! Reftorer! Law! and Judge!
Thine All; Day thine, and thine this gloom of Nights
With all her Wealth, with all her radiant Worlds:
What, Night eternal, but a Frown from Thee?
What, Heav'n's meridian Glory, but Thy Smile?
And shall not Praise be Thine? not Human Praise ?
While Heav'n's high Hoft on Hallelujahs live?
Oh may I breath 'no longer than I breath
My Soul in praise to Him, who gave my Soul,
And all her Infinite of Prospect fair,

Cut thro' the Shades of Hell, great Love! by Thee
Oh moft adorable! most unador'd!

Where shall that Praise begin which ne'er should end? Where'er I turn, what Claim on all Applaufe?

How is Night's fable mantle labour'd o'er,

How

How richly wrought with Attributes divine?

What Wisdom fhines? what Love? This midnight
Pomp,

This gorgeous Arch, with golden Worlds inlay'd;
Built with divine Ambition! nought to Thee;
For Others this Profufion: Thoù, apart,
Above, beyond! oh tell me, mighty Mind!
Where art Thou? shall I dive into the Deep?
Call to the Sun, or afk the roaring Winds,
For their Creator? fhall I queftion loud
The Thunder, if in that th' Almighty dwells?
Or holds He furious Storms in ftreighten'd Reins,
And bids fierce Whirlwinds wheel his rapid Car?
What mean thefe Questions?-trembling I retract;
My proftrate Soul adores the present God;
Praise I a diftant Deity? He tunes

My Voice (if tun'd ;) the Nerve, that writes, fuftains;
Wrap'd in his Being I refound his Praise :
But tho' paft All diffus'd, without a Shore,
His Effence; local is His Throne, (as meet)
To gather the Dispers'd (as Standards call
The Lifted from afar) to fix a Point,
A central Point, collective of his Sons,.
Since finite ev'ry Nature, but his own.

The nameless He, whofe Nod is Nature's Birth;
And Nature's Shield the Shadow of his Hand;
Her Diffolution, his fufpended Smile;
The great Firft-laft! pavilion'd high he fits
In Darkness, from exceffive Splendor, born,
By Gods unfeen, unless through Luftre loft.
His Glory to created Glory bright,

As that to central Horrors; He looks down
On all that foars; and spans Immenfity.

Tho' Night unnumber'd Worlds unfolds to view, Boundless Creation! what art thou? a Beam,

A meer

A meer Effluvium of his Majefty:

And shall an Atom of this Atom-World,
Mutter in Dust, and Sin, the Theme of Heav'n?
Down to the Center shou'd I send my Thought,
Thro' Beds of glitt'ring Ore, and glowing Gems,
Their beggar'd Blaze wants Luftre for my Lay;
Goes out in Darkness: If, on tow'ring Wing,
I fend it thro' the boundless Vault of Stars;
The Stars, tho' rich, what Drofs their Gold to Thee,"
Great! Good! Wife! Wonderful! Eternal King?
If to those confcious Stars thy Throne around,
Praise ever-pouring, and imbibing Bliss,

And ask their Strain; They want it, more they want ;
Poor their Abundance, humble their Sublime,
Languid their Energy, their Ardor cold,
Indebted ftill, their highest Rapture burns ;

Short of its Mark, Defective, tho' Divine.

Still more-This Theme is Man's, and Man's alone; Their vaft Appointments reach it not; They fee On Earth a Bounty, not indulg'd on high; And downward look for Heav'n's fuperior Praise ! First-born of Æther! high in Fields of Light! View Man, to see the Glory of your God! Cou'd Angels envy, they had envy'd here; And some did envy; and the reft, tho' Gods, Yet ftill Gods unredeem'd, (there triumphs Man, Tempted to weigh the Duft against the Skies) They lefs wou'd feel, tho' more adorn, my Theme. They fung Creation, (for in that they fhar'd) How rofe in Melody, the Child of Love? Creation's great Superior, Man! is thine; Thine is Redemption; They just gave the Key, 'Tis thine to raise, and eternize, the Song; Tho' human, yet divine; for fhou'd not this Raise Man o'er Man, and kindle Seraphs here?

Redemption!

Redemption! 'twas Creation more Sublime;
Redemption! 'twas the Labour of the Skies:
Far more than Labour-It was Death in Heav'n.
A Truth so strange! 'twere bold to think it true;
If not far bolder ftill, to disbelieve.

Here paufe, and ponder: Was there Death in Hea

ven?

What then on Earth? On Earth which ftruck the Blow!
Who ftruck it? Who ?-O how is Man enlarg'd
Seen thro' this Medium? How the Pigmy tow'rs?
How counterpois'd his Origin from Duft?
How counterpois'd, to Duft his fad Return?
How voided his vaft Distance from the Skies?
How near he preffes on the Seraph's Wing?
Which is the Seraph? Which the Born of Clay?
How This demonftrates, thro' the thickeft Cloud
Of Guilt, and Clay condens'd, the Son of Heav'n?
The double Son; the Made, and the Re-made;
And shall Heav'n's double Property be loft?
Man's double Madness only can destroy.
To Man the bleeding Crofs has promis'd all;
The bleeding Crofs has fworn eternal Grace;
Who gave his Life, what Grace shall he deny ?
O ye! who from this Rock of Ages leap
Difdainful, plunging headlong in the Deep!
What cordial Joy, what Confolation strong
Whatever Winds arife, or Billows roll,
Our Inter'ft in the Master of the Storm?
Cling there, and in wreck'd Nature's Ruins fmile;
While vile Apoftates tremble in a Calm.

་

Man! Know thyself; all Wisdom centers there:
To none Man feems ignoble, but to Man;
Angels that Grandeur, Men o'erlook, admire;
How long fhall Human Nature be Their Book,
Degén'rate Mortal! and unread by Thee?

*The