Such was I, such by nature still I am:
Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame,
Good life be now my task: my doubts are done;
What more could fright my faith than Three in One? Can I believe eternal God could lie
Disguis'd in mortal mould and infancy,
That the great maker of the world could die?
And, after that, trust my imperfect sense,
Which calls in question his omnipotence !
Can I my reason to my faith compel?
And shall my sight, and touch, and taste,
Superior faculties are set aside;
Shall their subservient organs be my guide?
Then let the moon usurp the rule of day,
And winking tapers shun the sun his way;
For what my senses can themselves perceive,
I need no revelation to believe,
Can they who say the host should be descry'd
By sense, define a body glorify'd?
Impassable, and penetrating parts ?
Let them declare by what mysterious arts
He shot that body thro' th' opposing might
Of bolts and bars, impervious to the light,
And stood before his train confess'd in open sight:
For, since thus wondrously he pass'd, 'tis plain 100
One single place two bodies did contain;
And sure the same Omnipotence as well
Can make one body in more places dwell.
Let reason then at her own quarry fly,
But how can finite grasp infinity?
'Tis urg'd again, that faith did first commence
By miracles, which are appeals to sense,
And thence concluded, that our sense must be
The motive still of credibility:
For latter ages must on former wait,
And what began belief must propagate.
But winnow well this thought, and you shall find
'Tis light as chaff that flies before the wind.
Were all those wonders wrought by pow'r divine,
As means, or ends, of some more deep design?
Most sure as means, whose end was this alone,
To prove the Godhead of th' eternal Son.
God thus asserted, man is to believe
Beyond what sense and reason can conceive,
And for mysterious things of faith rely,
On the proponent, Heaven's authority.
If then our faith we for our guide admit,
Vain is the farther search of human wit;
As when the building gains a surer stay,
We take th' unuseful scaffolding away.
Reason by sense no more can understand:
The game is play'd into another hand.
Why chuse we then, like billenders, to creep
Along the coast, and land in view to keep,
When safely we may launch into the deep? 130
and be mine the shame,
MET DE NOV IN” 16: 1oubts are done;
Let reason then at her own quarry fly,
But how can finite grasp infinity?
'Tis urg'd again, that faith did first commence
By miracles, which are appeals to sense,
And thence concluded, that our sense must be
The motive still of credibility:
For latter ages must on former wait,
And what began belief must propagate.
But winnow well this thought, and you shall find 'Tis light as chaff that flies before the wind. Were all those wonders wrought by pow'r divine, As means, or ends, of some more deep design? Most sure as means, whose end was this alone, To prove the Godhead of th' eternal Son. God thus asserted, man is to believe Beyond what sense and reason can conceive, And for mysterious things of faith rely, On the proponent, Heaven's authority. If then our faith we for our guide admit, Vain is the farther search of human wit; As when the building gains a surer stay, ful scaffolding away.
more can understand:
> another hand.
ke billenders, to creep
nd in view to keep,
In the same vessel which our Saviour bore,
Himself the pilot, let us leave the shore,
And with a better guide a better world explore.
Could he his Godhead veil with flesh and blood,
And not veil these again to be our food?
His grace in both is equal in extent,
The first affords us life, the second nourishment.
And if he can why all this frantic pain,
To construe what his clearest words contain,
And make a riddle what he made so plain ?
To take up half on trust, and half to try,
Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry.
Both knave and fool the merchant we may call,
To pay great sums, and to compound the small:
For who would break with Heav'n, and would not
break for all?
Rest then, my Soul, from endless anguish freed,
Nor sciences, thy guide, nor sense thy creed.
Faith is the best insurer of thy bliss;
The bank above must fail before the venture miss.
But Heav'n and heav'n-born faith are far from thee,
Thou first apostate to divinity;
Unkennell'd range in thy Polonian plains,
A fiercer foe, the insatiate wolf, remains.
Too boastful Britain, please thyself no more
That beasts of prey are banish'd from thy shore;
The bear, the boar, and ev'ry savage name,
Wild in effect, though in appearance tame,
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