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With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love
That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world
So cloath'd with beauty for rebellious man?
Yes--ye may fill your garners, ye that reap
The loaded foil, and ye may waste much good
In senseless riot; but ye will not find,
In feast or in the chace, in song or dance,
A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd
Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong,
Appropriates nature as his Father's work,
And has a richer use of
you. He is indeed a freeman; free by birth Of no mean plànn'd city, or e'er the hills Were built, the fountains open’d, or the sea With all his roaring multitude of waves. His freedom is the fame in every state, And no condition of his changeful life, So manifold in cares, whofe ev'ry day Brings its own evil with it, makes it lets : For he has wings that neither fickness, pain, Nor penury, can cripple or confine; No nook so narrow but he spreads them there With ease, and is at large. . Th' oppressor holds His body bound, but knows not what a range His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain ; And that to bind him is a vain attempt, Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells. Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst caste
His works. Admitted once to his embrace,
Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before ;
Thine eye shall be instructed, and thine heart
Made pure, shall relish with divine delight,
Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought.
Brutes graze the mountain-top with faces prone,
And eyes intent upon the scanty herb
It yields them; or recumbent on its brow,
Ruminate, heedless of the scene outspread
Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away
From inland regions to the distant main.
Man views it and admires, but rests content
With what he views. The landscape has his praisc,
But not its Author. Unconcern'd who form'd
The paradise he sees, he finds it such,
And such well-pleas’d to find it, asks no more.
Not fo the mind that has been touch'd from Heay'n,
And in the school of sacred wisdom taught
To read his wonders, in whose thought the world,
Fair as it is, existed e'er it was :
Not so for his own fake merely, but for his
Much more who fashion'd it, he gives it praise;
Praise that, from earth resulting, as it ought,
To earth's acknowledz'd Sovereign, finds at once
Its only just proprietor in Him.
The soul that sees him, or receives sublim'd
New faculties, or learns at least t' employ
More worthily the pow'rs fhe owa'd before,
Discerns in all things, what with stupid gaze
Of ignorance till then the overlookid,
A ray of heavn'ly light gilding all forms
Terrestrial, in the vast and the minute,
The unambiguous footsteps of the God
Who gives its lustre to an insects wing,
And wheels his thione upon the rolling worlds.
Much conversant with Heav'n, he often holds
With those fair ministers of light to man,
That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp,
Sweet conference; enquires what strains were they
With which Heav'n rang, when ev'ry star, in hafte
To gratulare the new created earth,
Sent forth a voice, and all the fons of God
Shouted for joy—“Tell me, ye shining hosts,
"That navigate a sea that knows no storms,
“ Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud,
"If from your elevation, whence ye view
" Diftinctly scenes invisible to man,
And systems, of whose birth no tidings get
" Have reach'd this nether world, ye fpy a race
6. Favour'd as ours, tranfgressors from the womb,
" And hasting to a grave, yet doom'd to rise,
" And to poffefs a brighter heav'n than yours?
“ 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.
66 So I with animated hopes behold, “ And many an aching wish, your beamy fires: “ That shew like beacons in the blue abyss, “ Ordain’d to guide th' embodied fpirit 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, when the lamp of truth Illuminates ; thy lamp, mysterious word! Which whofo fees no longer wanders loft, 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, hadft thou in strength Been less, or less benevolent than strong. They are thy witnesses, who speak thy pow's And goodnefs infinite, but speak in ears That hear not, or receive not their report, In vain thy creatures teftify of thee Till thou proclaim thyself. Theirs 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