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" 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 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, 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 testify 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

The uniform'd and heedless sons 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 scrunity, and provià Then skilful most when most severely judg’d. But chance is not; or is not where thou reign'ft: Thy providence forbids that fickle pow'r If pow'r the 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 make welcome, Gods that fleep, Or disregard our follies, or that fit Amus’d fpectators 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 fhunnid and hated thee before. Then we are free: then liberty, like day, Breaks on the soul, and by a fath from Heav'n. Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. A voice is heard that mortal ears hear not Till thou haft touch'd them ; 'tis the voice of song> A loud Hosanna fent from all thy works, Which he that hears it with a fhout, 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 beautics, 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 loft, and rove
At random, without honour, hope or, peace.
From thee is all that foothes the life of man,
His high endeavour, and his glad success,
His strength to fuffer, 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,




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OW various his employments, whom the world

Calls idle, and who juftly, in return,
Esteems that busy world an idler too!
Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen,
· Delightful industry enjoy'd at home,
And Nature in her cultivated trim

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Dress'd to his taste inviting him abroad
Can' he want occupation who has these!
Will he be idle who has much t' enjoy!
Me, therefore, studious of laborious ease,
Not Nothful; happy to deceive the time,
Not waste it; and aware that human life
Is but a loan to be repaid with use,
When he shall call his debtors to account,
From whom are all our blessings, bus'ness find
Ev'n here. While sedulous I seek t improve,
At least neglect not, or leave unemployd
The mind he gave; driving it, though nack
Too oft and much impeded in his work
By causes not to be divulg'd in vain,
To its just point-the service of mankind.
He that attends to his interior self,
That has a heart and keeps it: has a mind
That hungers and supplies it; and who seeks
A focial, not a dissipated life,
Has business. Feels himself engaged to atchieve
No unimportant, though a filent task.
A life all turbulence and noise may seem
To him that leads it wise, and to be prais’d;
But wisdom is a pearl with most success
Sought in ftill water, and beneath clear skies.
He that is ever occupied in storms,
Or dives not for it, or brings up instead,
Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize.




H for a lodge in some vast wilderness,

Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful and successful war,
Might never reach me more. My ear is pain’d,
My soul is fick with every day's report
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fill’d.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart,
It does not feel for man. The nat'ral bond
Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax
That fails alunder at the touch of fire.
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin
Not celour'd like his own; and having power
T'inforce the wrong for such a worthy cause,
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd,
Make enemies of nations, who had else,
Like kindred drops, been minglid into one.
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys ;
And worse than all, and most to be deplorid,
As human nature's, broadeft, fouic ít blot,
Chains him and taiks him, and exacts his sweat

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