"As one who long detain'd on foreign shores "Pants to return, and when he sees afar "His country's weather-bleach'd and batter'd rocks, "From the green wave emerging, darts an eye "Radiant with joy towards the happy land; "So I with animated hopes behold, "And many an aching wish, your beamy fires, "Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires "And that, infus'd from heav'n, must thither tend." So reads he nature whom the lamp of truth Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious word! Which whoso sees no longer wanders lost, Worlds that had never been hadst thou in strength Been less, or less benevolent than strong. They are thy witnesses, who speak thy pow'r And goodness infinite, but speak in ears That hear not, or receive not their report. Till thou proclaim thyself. Their's is indeed Yet, deem'd oracular, lure down to death The uninform'd and heedless souls of men. We give to chance, blind chance, ourselves as blind, The glory of thy work; which yet appears Perfect and unimpeachable of blame, Challenging human scrutiny, and prov'd Then skilful most when most severely judg'd. But chance is not; or is not where thou reign'st: 1 Thy providence forbids that fickle pow'r To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws. Gods such as guilt makes welcome; gods that sleep, Amus'd spectators of this bustling stage. Thee we reject, unable to abide Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure; Made such by thee, we love thee for that cause For which we shunn'd and hated thee before. Then we are free. Then liberty, like day, Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from heav'n Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. A voice is heard that mortal ears hear not Till thou hast touch'd them; 'tis the voice of song A loud hosanna sent from all thy works; In that blest moment Nature, throwing wide The author of her beauties, who, retir'd |