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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 fenfelefs riot; but ye will not find,
In feast or in the chace, in fong or dance,
A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd
Of ufurpation, and to no man's wrong,
Appropriates nature as his Father's work,
And has a richer ufe of yours than you.
He is indeed a freeman; free by birth
Of no mean plann'd city, or e'er the hills
Were built, the fountains open'd, or the fea
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 lefs:
For he has wings that neither fickness, pain,
Nor penury, can cripple or confine ;

No nook fo narrow but he spreads them there
With eafe, and is at large. Th' oppreffor holds
His body bound, but knows not what a range
His fpirit takes, unconscious of a chain;
And that to bind him is a vain attempt,

Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells.

Acquaint thyfelf with God, if thou wouldst tafte

His works.

Admitted once to his embrace,

Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before;
Thine eye fhall be inftructed, 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 fcanty herb

It yields them; or recumbent on its brow,
Ruminate, heedlefs of the scene outspread
Beneath, beyond, and ftretching far away
From inland regions to the diftant main.
Man views it and admires, but refts content
With what he views. The landscape has his praise,
But not its Author. Unconcern'd who form'd
The paradise he fees, he finds it such,

And fuch well-pleas'd to find it, afks no more.
Not fo the mind that has been touch'd from Heav'n,
And in the school of facred wisdom taught

To read his wonders, in whofe thought the world,
Fair as it is, exifted e'er it was:

Not fo for his own fake merely, but for his
Much more who fashion'd it, he gives it praife;
Praise that, from earth refulting, as it ought,
To earth's acknowledg'd Sovereign, finds at once
Its only just proprietor in Him.

The foul that fees him, or receives fublim'd
New faculties, or learns at least t' employ
More worthily the pow'rs fhe own'd before,

Difcerns in all things, what with stupid gaze
Of ignorance till then the overlook'd,
A ray of heavn'ly light gilding all forms
Terreftrial, in the vast and the minute,
The unambiguous footsteps of the God
Who gives its luftre to an infects wing,
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds.
Much converfant with Heav'n, he often holds
With those fair minifters of light to man,

That fill the skies nightly with filent pomp,
Sweet conference; enquires what ftrains were they
With which Heav'n rang, when ev'ry ftar, in hafte
To gratulare the new created earth,

Sent forth a voice, and all the fons of God
Shouted for joy-" Tell me, ye fhining hosts,
"That navigate a fea that knows no storms,
"Beneath a vault unfullied with a cloud,
"If from your elevation, whence ye view
"Diftinctly scenes invifible to man,
"And fyftems, of whofe birth no tidings yet
Have reach'd this nether world, ye fpy a race
Favour'd as ours, tranfgreffors from the womb,
"And hafting to a grave, yet doom'd to rife,
"And to poffefs a brighter heav'n than yours?
"As one who, long detain'd on foreign fhores,
"Pants to return, and when he fees 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 fhew like beacons in the blue abyfs, "Ordain'd to guide th' embodied spirit home "From toilfome life to never-ending reft. "Love kindles as I gaze. I feel defires "That give affurance of their own success, "And that infus'd from Heav'n muft thither tend."

So reads he Nature, when the lamp of truth
Illuminates; thy lamp, myfterious word!
Which whofo fees no longer wanders loft,
With intellects bemaz'd, in endless doubt,
But runs the road of wisdom. Thou haft built,
With means that were not till by thee employ'd,
Worlds that had never been, hadft thou in ftrength
Been lefs, or lefs benevolent than strong.
They are thy witneffes, who fpeak thy pow'r
And goodness infinite, but speak in ears
That hear not, or receive not their report.
In vain thy creatures teftify of thee

Till thou proclaim thy felf. 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 ufe.
Till thou art heard, imaginations vain
Poffefs the heart, and fables falfe as hell,
Yet deem'd oracular, lure down to death

The uniform'd and heedlefs fons 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 fcrunity, and prov'd
Then skilful moft when moft feverely judg'd.
But chance is not; or is not where thou reign'st:
Thy providence forbids that fickle pow'r

If pow'r fhe be that works but to confound)
To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws.

Yet thus we dote, refufing while we can
Inftruction and inventing to ourselves

Gods fuch as guilt make welcome, Gods that fleep,
Or difregard our follies, or that fit
Amus'd fpectators of this bustling ftage,
Thee we reject, unable to abide

Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure,

Made fuch by thee, we love thee for that caufe
For which we fhunn'd and hated thee before.
Then we are free: then liberty, like day,
Breaks on the foul, and by a flash from Heav'n.
Fircs 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 fong,
A loud Hofanna fent from all thy works,
Which he that hears it with a fhout, repeats,
And adds his rapture to the gen'ral praife.
In that bleft moment, Nature throwing wide,

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