"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,
"That show like beacons in the blue abyss,
“Ordain'd to guide th' embodied spirit home
"From toilsome life to never-ending rest.

"Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires
"That give assurance of their own success,

"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,
With intellects bemaz'd in endless doubt,
But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built,
With means that were not till by thee employ'd,

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.
In vain thy creatures testify of thee

Till thou proclaim thyself. Their's is indeed
A teaching voice; but 'tis the praise of thine
That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn,
And with the boon gives talents for its use.
Till thou art heard, imaginations vain
Possess the heart, and fables false as hell;

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
(If pow'r she be that works but to confound)

To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws.
Yet thus we dote, refusing while we can
Instruction, and inventing to ourselves

Gods such as guilt makes welcome; gods that sleep,
Or disregard our follies, or that sit

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;
Which he that hears it with a shout repeats,
And adds his rapture to the gen'ral praise.

In that blest moment Nature, throwing wide
Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile

The author of her beauties, who, retir'd
Behind his own creation, works unseen
By the impure, and hears his pow'r denied.
Thou art the source and centre of all minds,
Their only point of rest, eternal Word!
From thee departing, they are lost, and rove
At random, without honour, hope, or peace.
From thee is all that sooths the life of man,
His high endeavour, and his glad success,
His strength to suffer, and his will to serve.
But oh thou bounteous giver of all good,
Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown!
Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor;
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.