Man's Author! End! Restorer! Law! and Judge!
Thine, all; day thine, and thine this gloom of night,
With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds:
What, night eternal, but a frown from thee?
What, Heaven's meridian glory, but thy smile?
And shall not praise be thine, not human praise?
While Heaven's high host on hallelujahs live?
O may I breathe no longer than I breathe
My soul in praise to him, who gave my soul,
And all her infinite of prospect fair,
Cut through the shades of Hell, great love! by thee, O most adorable! most unador'd!
Where shall thy praise begin, which ne'er should
Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause!
How is night's sable mantle labour'd o'er,
How richly wrought with attributes divine! [pomp,
What wisdom shines! what love! this midnight
This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlay'd!
Built with divine ambition! nought to thee;
For others this profusion: thou, apart,
Above! beyond! O tell me, mighty Mind!
Where art thou? Shall I dive into the deep?
Call to the Sun, or ask the roaring winds,
For their Creator! Shall I question loud
The thunder, if in that th' Almighty dwells?
Or holds he furious storms in straiten'd reins,
And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car?
What mean these questions? Trembling, I retract;
My prostrate soul adores the present God:
Praise I a distant deity? He tunes
My voice (if tun'd); the nerve, that writes, sustains:
Wrapt in his being, I resound his praise :
But though past all diffus'd, without a shore,
His essence; local is his throne, (as meet,)
To gather the disperst, (as standards call
The listed from afar): to fix a point,
A central point, collective of his sons,
Since finite every nature but his own.
The nameless He, whose nod is Nature's birth;
And Nature's shield, the shadow of his hand;
Her dissolution, his suspended smile!
The great First-Last! pavilion'd high he sits,
In darkness from excessive splendour borne,
By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost.
His glory, to created glory, bright,
As that to central horrours; he looks down
On all that soars; and spans immensity.
Though night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view,
Boundless creation! what art thou? A beam,
A mere effluvium of his majesty:
And shall an atom of this atom-world
Mutter, in dust and sin, the theme of Heaven?
Down to the centre should I send my thought
Through beds of glittering ore, and glowing gems,
Their beggar'd blaze wants lustre for my lay;
Goes out in darkness: if, on towering wing,
I send it through the boundless vault of stars!
The stars, though rich, what dross their gold to thee,
Great! good! wise! wonderful! eternal King!
If to those conscious 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 ardour cold,
Indebted still, their highest rapture burns;
Short of its mark, defective, though divine. [alone;
Still more- - This theme is man's, and man's
Their vast appointments reach it not: they see
On Earth a bounty not indulg'd on high;
And downward look for Heaven's superior praise !
First born of ether! high in fields of light!
View man, to see the glory of your God!
Could angels envy, they had envied here;
And some did envy; and the rest, though gods,
Yet still gods unredeem'd, (there triumphs man,
Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies,)
They less would feel, though more adorn, my theme.
They sung Creation (for in that they shar'd);
How rose in melody, that child of love!
Creation's great superior, man! is thine;
Thine is redemption; they just gave the key:
'T is thine to raise, and eternize, the song;
Though human, yet divine: for should not this
Raise man o'er man, and kindle seraphs here?
Redemption! 't was creation more sublime;
Redemption! 't was the labour of the skies;
Far more than labour It was death in Heaven.
A truth so strange! 't were bold to think it true;
If not far bolder still to disbelieve!
Here pause, and ponder: was there death in Heaven?
What then on Earth? On Earth, which struck the
Who struck it? Who? O how is man enlarg'd
Seen through this medium! how the pigmy towers!
How counterpois d his origin from dust!
How counterpois'd, to dust his sad return!
How voided his vast distance from the skies!
How near he presses on the seraph's wing!
Which is the seraph? Which the born of clay ?
How this demonstrates, through the thickest cloud
Of guilt, and clay condens'd, the son of Heaven!
The double son; the made, and the re-made!
And shall Heaven's double property be lost?
Man's double madness only can destroy.
To man the bleeding cross has promis'd all ;
The bleeding cross has sworn eternal grace;
Who gave his life, what grace shall he deny?
O ye! who, from this rock of ages, leap,
Apostates, plunging headlong in the deep!
What cordial joy, what consolation strong,
Whatever winds arise, or billows roll,
Our interest in the master of the storm.
Cling there, and in wreck'd Nature's ruin smile;
While vile apostates tremble in a calm.
Man! know thyself. All wisdom centres there:
To none man seems ignoble, but to man;
Angels that grandeur, men o'erlook, admire :
How long shall human nature be their book,
Degenerate mortal! and unread by thee?
The beam dim reason sheds shows wonders there;
What high contents! Illustrious faculties!
But the grand comment, which displays at full
Our human height, scarce sever'd from divine,
By Heaven compos'd, was publish'd on the cross
Who looks on that, and sees not in himself
An aweful stranger, a terrestrial 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 strange fire, Eternity! at thee;
And drops the world - or rather, more enjoys:
How chang'd the face of Nature! how improv'd!
What seem'd a chaos, shines 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 illustrious still.
Beyond long ages, yet roll'd up in shades
Unpierc'd by bold conjecture's keenest ray,
What evolutions of surprising 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 strange 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 wings 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 spirit's aweful fountain: pour'd himself
Through all their souls; but not in equal stream,
Profuse, or frugal, of th' aspiring God,
As his wise plan demanded; and when past
Their various trials in their various spheres,
|