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What hand the barb'd, invenom'd thought can draw?
With joy,—with grief, that healing hand I see;
O for their song ; to reach my lofty theme !
And christian languish? On our hearts, not heads,
Thou most indulgent most tremendous pow'r!
Bold thought! shall I dare speak it, or repress? Should man more execrate, or boast, the guilt Which rous'd such vengeance ? which such love
inflam'd ? O'er guilt (how mountainous !) with out-strecht arms, Stern justice, and soft-smiling love embrace, Supporting, in full majesty, thy throne, When seem'd its majesty to need support, Or that, or man, inevitably lost: What, but the fathomless of thought divine, Could labour such expedient from despair, And rescue both ? Both rescue! both exalt! O how are both exalted by the deed !
The wond'rous deed! or shall I call it more?
Not, thus, our infidels th' Eternal draw,
Ye brainless wits ! ye baptiz'd infidels! Ye worse for mending! wash'd to fouler stains ! The ransom was paid down; the fund of heav'n, Heav'n's inexhaustible, exhausted fund, Amazing, and amaz'd, pour’d forth the price, All price beyond: Tho' curious to compute, Archangels faild to cast the mighty sum : Its value vast, ungraspt by minds create, For ever hides, and glows, in the Supreme
And was the ransom paid? It was: And paid (What can exalt the bounty more?) for you. The sun beheld it—No, the shocking scene Drove back his chariot. Midnight veil'd his face; Not such as this; not such as nature makes ; A midnight nature shudder'd to behold; A midnight new! a dread eclipse (without Opposing spheres) from her Creator's frown! Sun ! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain? Or start
At that enormous load of human guilt,
man Might never die !
And is devotion virtue ? 'Tis compellid: What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like these? Such contemplations mount us; and should mount The mind still higher; nor ever glance on man, Unraptur’d, uninflam'd.—Where roll my thoughts To rest from wonders ? Other wonders rise ; And strike where'er they roll: my soul is caught: Heav'n's sovereign blessings, clust'ring from the Cross, Rush on her, in a throng, and close her round, The pris'ner of amaze!- In his blest life, I see the path, and, in his death, the price, And in his great ascent, the proof supreme Of immortality.--And did he rise ? Hear, Oye nations ! hear it, О ye dead! He rose! He rose! He burst the bars of death. · Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates! And give the King of glory to come in. Who is the King of glory? He who left His throne of glory, for the pang of death : Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates ! And give the King of glory to come in. Who is the King of glory? He who slew