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By which Heav'n moves in pard'ning guilty man:
And he that shows none, being ripe in years,
And confcious of the outrage he commits,

Shall feck it, and not find it in his turn.

COWPER.

SECTION V.

A Paraphrafe on the latter Part of the 6th Chapter of Matthew.

WHEN my breaft labours with opprefsive care,
And o'er my cheek defcends the falling tear;
While all my warring pafsions are at strife,
Oh! let me liften to the words of life!
Raptures deep-felt his doctrine did impart,
And thus he rais'd from earth the drooping heart.
"Think not, when all your fcanty ftores afford,
Is spread at once upon the sparing board;
Think not, when worn the homely robe appears,
While on the roof the howling tempest bears;
What farther fhall this feeble life sustain,
And what fhall clothe thefe fhiv'ring limbs again.
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed?
And the fair body its invefting weed?
Behold! and look away your low despair-
See the light tenants of the barren air:
To them, nor ftores, nor granaries, belong;
Nought, but the woodland, and the pleating fong;
Yet, your kind heav'nly Father bends his eye
On the leaft wing that flits along the sky.
To him they fing, when fpring renews the plain;
To him they cry, in winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their mufic, nor their plaint in vain:

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He hears the gay, and the distressful call;
And with unfparing bounty fills them all."
"Obferve the rifing lily's fnowy grace;
Obferve the various vegetable race:

They neither toil, nor fpin, but careless grow;
Yet fee how warm they blufh! how bright they glow!
What regal veftments can with them compare!
What king fo fhining! or what queen so fair!”
"If, ceafelefs, thus, the fowls of heav'n he feeds;
If o'er the fields fuch lucid robes he spreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithlefs, fay?
Is he unwife? or, are ye lefs than they?”

THOMSON.

SECTION VI.

The death of a good Man a ftrong Incentive to Virtue.

THE chamber where the good man meets his fate,
Is privileg'd beyond the common walk

Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heav'n.
Fly, ye profane! If not, draw near with awe,
Receive the blefsing, and adore the chance,
That threw in this Bethesda your disease:
If unreftor'd by this, defpair your cure.
For, here, refiftlefs Demonftration dwells;
A death-bed's a detector of the heart.
Here tir'd Difsimulation drops her mafk,
Thro' life's grimace, that mistress of the scene!
Here real, and apparent, are the fame.
You fee the man; you fee his hold on heav'n,
If found his virtue, as Philander's found.

Heav'n waits not the last moment; owns her friends

On this fide death; and points them out to men;
A lecture, filent, but of fov'reign pow'r!
To vice, confufion; and to virtue, peace.
Whatever farce the boaftful hero plays,
Virtue alone has majesty in death;

And greater ftill, the more the tyrant frowns.

YOUNG.

SECTION VII.

Reflections on a Future State, from a Review of Winter.

'Tis done! dread Winter fpreads his latest glooms, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year. How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!

How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
His defolate domain. Behold, fond man!

See here thy pictur'd life: pafs fome few years,
Thy flow'ring fpring, thy fummer's ardent ftrength,
Thy fober autumn fading into age,

And pale concluding winter comes at last,

And fhuts the fcene. Ah! whither now are fled,
Thofe dreams of greatnefs? thofe unfolid hopes
Of happiness? thofe longings after fame?
Those restless cares? those bufy bustling days?
Those gay-spent, feftive nights? thofe veering thoughts
Loft between good and ill, that shar'd thy life?
All now are vanish'd! Virtue fole survives,
Immortal never-failing friend of man,
His guide to happinefs on high. And fee!
'Tis come, the glorious morn! the second birth
Of heav'n, and earth! awak'ning Nature hears
The new-creating word; and starts to life,

In ev'ry heighten'd form, from pain and death.
For ever free. The great eternal seheme,
Involving all, and in a perfect whole
Uniting as the prospect wider spreads,
To Reason's eye refin'd clears up apace.
Ye vainly wife! Ye blind presumptuous! now,
Confounded in the duft, adore that Power,
And Wisdom oft arraign'd: fee now the caufe
Why unafsuming Worth in fecret liv'd,
And dy'd neglected: why the good man's fhare
In life was gall and bitterness of foul:
Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd
In ftarving folitude; while Luxury,

In palaces, lay ftraining her low thought,
To form unreal wants: why heav'n-born Truth,
And Moderation fair, wore the red marks
Of Superftition's fcourge: why licens'd Pain,
That cruel fpoiler, that embofom'd foe,
Imbitter'd all our blifs. Ye good distress'd!
Ye noble few! who here unbending stand
Beneath life's prefsure, yet bear up a while,
And what your bounded view, which only faw
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more:

The ftorms of wintry time will quickly pafs,
And one unbounded spring encircle all.

THOMSON.

SECTION VIII.

ADAM'S Advice to EvE, to avoid Temptation.

"O WOMAN, beft are all things as the will Of God ordain'd them; his creating hand

Nothing imperfect or deficient left

Of all that he created, much less man,
Or ought that might his happy ftate fecure,
Secure from outward force. Within himself
The danger lies, yet lies within his pow'r:
Againft his will he can receive no harm.
But God left free the will; for what obeys
Reason, is free, and Reafon he made right;
But bid her well beware, and ftill erect,
Left, by fome fair appearing good furpris'd,
She dictate falfe, and mifinform the will
To do what God expressly hath forbid.
Not then miftruft, but tender love, injoins
That I should mind thee oft; and mind thou me.
Firm we fubfift, yet pofsible to fwerve,

Since Reason not impossibly may meet

Some specious object by the foe suborn'd,
And fall into deception unaware,

Not keeping ftricteft watch, as she was warn'd.
Seek not temptation then, which to avoid.
Were better, and most likely if from me
Thou fever not; trial will come unfought.
Would'st thou approve thy conftancy? approve
First thy obedience; th' other who can know,
Not seeing thee attempted, who atteft?
But if thou think, trial unfought may find

Us both fecurer than thus warn'd thou feem'it,

Go;
Go in thy native innocence; rely

for thy ftay, not free, absents thee more:

On what thou haft of virtue, fummon all;

For God towards thee hath done his part; do thine."

MILTON.

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