Deny thou art: Then, doubt if thou shalt be.
A miracle with miracles inclos'd,
Is man; And starts his faith at what is strange?
What less than wonders, from the wonderful;
What less than miracles, from GOD, can flow?
Admit a GOD—that mystery supreme !
That Cause uncaus'd! all other wonders cease;
Nothing is marvellous for Him to do:
Deny Him-all is mystery besides;
Millions of mysteries? Each darker far,
Than that thy wisdom would, unwisely shun.
If weak thy faith, why choose the harder side?
We nothing know, but what is marvellous ;
Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
So weak our reason, and so great our GoD,
What most surprises in the sacred page,
Or full as strange, or stranger, must be true.
Faith is not reason's labour, but repose.
To faith, and virtue, why so backward, man? From hence:-The present strongly strikes us all; The future, faintly: Can we, then, be men? If men, LORENZO! the reverse is right. Reason is man's peculiar: Sense, the brute's. The present is the scanty realm of sense; The future, reason's empire unconfin'd: On that expending all her godlike power, She plans, provides, expatiates, triumphs, there; There, builds her blessings! There, expects her praise;
And nothing asks of fortune, or of men,
And what is reason? Be she, thus, detin'd;
Reason is upright stature in the soul.
Oh! be a man !-and strive to be a god.
"For what? (thou says't) To damp the joys of life ?" No; to give heart and substance to thy joys. That tyrant hope; mark how she domineers;
She bids us quit realities, for dreams :
Safety and peace, for hazard and alarm;
That tyrant o'er the tyrants of the soul,
She bids ambition quit its taken prize,
Spurn the luxuriant branch on which it sits,
Tho' bearing crowns, to spring at distant game;
And plunge in toils and dangers-for repose.
If hope precarious, and of things, when gain'd,
Of little moment, and as little stay,
Can sweeten toils, and dangers into joys;
What then, that hope, which nothing can defeat,
Our leave unask'd? Rich hope of boundless bliss!
Bliss, past man's pow'r to paint it; time's to close!
This hope is earth's most estimable prize :
This is man's portion, while no more than man:
Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here ;
Passions of prouder name befriend us less.
Joy has her tears; and transport has her death;
Hope, like a cordial, innocent, tho' strong,
Man's heart, at once, inspirits and serenes!
Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys!
'Tis All, our present state can safely bear,
Health to the frame! and vigour to the mind!
A joy attemper'd! a chastis'd delight!
Like the fair summer ev'ning, mild, and sweet! 'Tis man's full cup; his paradise below!
A blest hereafter. then, or hop'd, or gain'd, Is All;—our whole of happiness: Full proof, I chose no trivial or inglorious theme. And know, ye foes to song! (well-meaning men, Tho' quite forgotten * half your Bible's praise !) Important truths, in spite of verse, may please: Grave minds you praise; nor can you praise too much : If there is weight in an ETERNITY,
Let the grave listen ;-and be graver still.
* The poetical parts of it.
The Man of the World Answered.
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