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And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, All end, in love of God and love of man.
For him alone hope leads from goal to goal, And
opens still and opens on his soul, Till lengthen'd on to faith, and unconfin'd, It
pours the bliss that fills up all the mind. He sees why nature plants in man alone Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown : (Nature, whose dictates to no other kind Are given in vain, but what they seek they find) Wise is her present; she connects in this His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss ; At once his own bright prospect to be blest, And strongest motive to assist the rest.
Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine, Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine. Is this too little for the boundless heart? Extend it, let thy enemies have part: Grasp the whole world of reason, life, and sense, In one close system of benevolence: Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, And height of bliss but height of charity.
God loves from whole to parts: but human soul Must rise from individual to the whole. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds, Another still, and still another spreads; Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace ; His country next, and next all human race ;
Wide and more wide, th' o'erflowings of the mind
Come then, my friend! my genius! come along,
DEO OPT. MAX.
FATHER of all! in every age,
In every clime ador'd,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord !
Who all my sense confin'd
And that myself am blind :
To see the good from ill: And binding nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.
What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do;
That more than heaven pursue.
Let me not cast away;
T enjoy is to obey.
Thy goodness let me bound,
When thousand worlds are round.
THE POEMS OF POPE.
Let not this weak unknowing hand
Presume thy bolts to throw,
On each I judge thy foe.
Still in the right to stay ;
Or impious discontent,
Or aught thy goodness lent.
To hide the fault I see: That mercy I to others show, That mercy
show to me. Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quicken’d by thy breath; O lead me, whereso’er I go,
Through this day's life or death! This day be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not,
And let thy will be done. To Thee, whose temple is all space,
Whose altar earth, sea, skies, One chorus let all Being raise,
All nature's incense rise!