The Beam dim Reason sheds fhews Wonders There;
What High Contents? Illuftrious Faculties?

But the grand Comment, which displays at full
Our Human Height, fcarce fever'd from Divine,
By Heav'n compos'd, was publifh'd on the Cross!
Who looks on that, and fees not in himself
An awful Stranger, a Terreftrial God?
A glorious Partner with the Deity
In that high Attribute, immortal Life?
If a God bleeds, he bleeds not for a Worm:
I gaze, and as I gaze, my mounting Soul
Catches ftrange Fire, Eternity! at thee,

And drops the World-or rather, more enjoys.
How chang'd the Face of Nature? how improv'd?
What feem'd a Chaos, fhines a glorious World,
Or, what a World, an Eden; heighten'd all!
It is another Scene! another Self!

And still another, as Time rolls along,
And that a Self far more illuftrious ftill.
Beyond long Ages, yet roll'd up in Shades,
Unpierc'd by bold Conjecture's keenest Ray,
What Evolutions of furprizing Fate!

How Nature opens, and receives my Soul
In boundless Walks of raptur'd Thought! Where Gods
Encounter, and embrace me! What new Births
Of ftrange Adventure, foreign to the Sun ;
Where what now charms, perhaps, whate'er exists,
Old Time, and fair Creation, are forgot!
Is this extravagant? Of Man we form
Extravagant Conception; to be just :
Conception unconfin'd wants Wing to reach him:
Beyond its reach, the Godhead only, more.
He, the great Father! kindled at one Flame
The World of Rationals; one Spirit pour'd
From Spirits awful Fountain; pour'd Himself

Thro' all their Souls; but not in equal Stream,
Profufe, or frugal of th' infpiring God,
As his wife Plan demanded; and when past
Their various Trials, in their various Spheres,
If they continue Rational, as made,

Reforbs them all into Himself again;

His Throne their Center, and his Smile their Crown.
Why doubt we, then, the glorious Truth to fing,
Tho' yet unfung, as deem'd perhaps too bold?
Angels are men of a fuperior Kind;

Angels are Men in lighter Habit clad,

High o'er celeftial Mountains wing'd in Flight;
And Men are Angels, loaded for an Hour,
Who wade this miry Vale, and climb with Pain,
And flipp'ry Step, the Bottom of the Steep:
Angels their Failings, Mortals have their Praise;
While Here of Corps Ethereal, fuch enroll❜d,
And fummon'd to the Glorious Standard soon,
Which flames eternal Crimson thro' the Skies.
Nor are our Brothers thoughtless of their Kin,
Yet abfent; but not abfent from their Love.
Michael has fought our Battles; Raphael fung
Our Triumphs; Gabriel on our Errands flown;
Sent by the Sov'reign: And are these, O Man!
Thy Friends, thy warm Allies? and Thou (Shame
burn

The Cheek to Cinder) Rival to the Brute?

Religion's All. Defcending from the Skies To wretched Man, the Goddess in her Left Holds out this World, and in her Right, the next s Religion the fole Voucher Man is Man;

Supporter fole of Man above himself;

Ev'n in this Night of Frailty, Change, and Death,
She gives the Soul a Soul that acts a God.

Religion! Providence! an After-state!

Mere

Here is firm Footing; here is folid Rock;
This can fupport us; all is Sea besides,
Sinks under us; beftorms, and then devours.
His Hand the good Man fastens on the Skies,
And bids Earth roll, nor feels her idle Whirl.

As when a Wretch, from thick, polluted Air,
Darkness, and Stench, and fuffocating Damps,
And Dungeon Horrors, by kind Fate discharg'd,
Climbs fome fair Eminence, where Ether pure
Surrounds him, and Elyfian Profpects rife,
His Heart exults, his Spirits caft their Load,
As if new-born, he triumphs in the Change;
So joys the Soul,, when from inglorious Aims,
And fordid Sweets, from Feculence and Froth
Of Ties terreftrial, fet at large, fhe mounts,
To Reason's Region, her own Element,
Breaths Hopes immortal, and affects the Skies.
Religion! thou the Soul of Happiness :
And groaning Calvary, of thee! there shine
The nobleft Truths; there strongest Motives sting
There facred Violence affaults the Soul;
There nothing but Compulfion is forborn.

Can Love allure us? or can Terror awe?

He weeps!-the falling Drop puts out the Sun;
He fighs the Sigh Earth's deep Foundation fhakės.
If, in his Love, fo terrible, what then

His Wrath inflam'd! his Tenderness on Fire!
Like foft, fmooth Oyl, outblazing other Fires?
Can Pray'r, can Praise avert it? Thou, my All!
My Theme! my Infpiration! and my Crown!
My Strength in Age! my Rife in low Eftate!
My Soul's Ambition, Pleafure, Wealth!-my World
My Light in Darkness! and my Life in Death!
My Boaft thro' Time! Blifs thro' Eternity;
Eternity, too short to speak thy Praise !

Or fathom thy Profound of Love to Man!

To Man of Men the meaneft, ev'n to me;

My Sacrifice! my God-what things are These? What then art Thou? by what Name fhall I call Thee?

Knew I the Name devout Arch-angels ufe,

Devout Arch-angels fhou'd the Name enjoy.
By me unrival'd; Thousands more fublime,
None half fo dear, as that, which tho' unspoke,
Still glows at Heart; O how Omnipotence
Is loft in Love! Thou great Philanthropift!
Father of Angels! but the Friend of Man!
Like Jacob, fondeft of the younger born!
Thou, who didst save him, snatch the smoaking Brand
From out the Flames, and quench it in thy Blood!
How art Thou pleas'd, by Bounty to distress ?
To make us groan beneath our Gratitude,
Too big for Birth, to favour and confound?
To challenge, and to distance, all Return?
Of lavish Love stupendous Heights to foar,
And leave Praise panting in the diftant Vale?
Thy Right too great defrauds Thee of Thy Due;
And facrilegious our fublimeft Song.
But fince the naked Will obtains thy Smile,
Beneath this Monument of Praise unpaid,
And future Life fymphonious to my Strain,
(That nobleft Hymn to Heav'n!) for ever lie
Intomb'd my Fear of Death; and ev'ry Fear,
The Dread of ev'ry Evil, but thy Frown.
Whom fee I yonder, fo demurely smile?
Laughter a Labour, and might break their reft.
Ye Quietifts, in Homage to the Skies!
Serene! of foft Addrefs! who mildly make
An unobtrusive Tender of your Hearts,
Abhorring Violence! who halt indeed

But

But for the Bleffing, wrestle not with Heav'n!
Think you my Song too turbulent ? too warm?
Are Paffions then, the Pagans of the Soul?
Reafon alone baptiz'd? alone ordain'd

To touch Things facred?-Oh for warmer ftill!
Guilt chills my Zeal, and Age benumbs my Pow'rs
Oh for an humble Heart, and prouder Song!
Thou, my much injur'd Theme! with that foft Eye
Which melted o'er doom'd Salem, deign to look
Compaffion to the Coldnefs of my Breaft;
And Pardon to the Winter in my Strain.

Oh ye cold-hearted, frozen, Formalifts!
On fuch a Theme, 'tis impious to be calm;
Paffion is Reason, Tranfport Temper here;
Shall Heav'n which gave us Ardor, and has fhewn
Her own for Man so strongly, not disdain
What smooth Emollients in Theology,
Recumbent Virtue's downy Doctors preach,
That Profe of Piety, a lukewarm Praise?
Rife Odors fweet from Incense uninflam'd?
Devotion, when lukewarm, is undevout;
But when it glows, its Heat is ftruck to Heav'n;
To human Hearts her golden Harps are strung;
High Heav'n's Orchestra chaunts Amen to Man.

Hear I, or dream I hear, their distant Strain, Sweet to the Soul, and tafting ftrong of Heav'n, Soft-wafted on celeftial Pity's Plume,

Thro' the vaft Spaces of the Universe

To chear me, in this melancholy Gloom?
Oh when will Death, (now ftinglefs) like a Friend,
Admit me of their Choir ? Oh when will Death,
This mould'ring, old, Partition-wall thrown down,
Give Beings, one in Nature, one Abode ?
Oh Death divine ! that gives us to the Skies,
Great Future! glorious Patron of the Paft,
D 3

And