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The unambiguous footsteps of the God
Who gives its luftre to an infect's wing,
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds.
Much converfant with heav'n, she often holds
With those fair minifters of light to man,
That fill the skies nightly with filent pomp,
Sweet conference. Inquires what strains were they
With which heav'n rang, when ev'ry star, in hafte
To gratulate 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 unfullied with a cloud,
" If from your elevation, whence ye view
"Distinctly scenes invisible to man,
"And systems of whose birth no tidings yet
"Have reach'd this nether world, ye spy a race
"Favour'd as our's; tranfgreffors from the womb,
" And hasting to a grave, yet doom'd to rife,
" And to possess a brighter heav'n than your's?

"As one who long detain'd on foreign shores

" 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 show 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 defires "That give afsurance of their own fuccess, " And that, infus'd from heav'n, must thither tend."

So reads he nature whom the lamp of truth
Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious word!
Which whoso 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 hadst thou in strength

Been less, or less benevolent than strong.

They are thy witnesses, who speak thy pow'r

And goodness infinite, but speak in ears
That hear not, or receive not their report,
In vain thy creatures testify of thee
Till thou proclaim thyself. Their's 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 uninform'd and heedless souls 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 scrutiny, and prov'd
Then skilful most when most severely judg'd.

But chance is not; or is not where thou reign'st:

VOL, II,

Thy providence forbids that fickle pow'r
(If pow'r she 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 fuch as guilt makes welcome; gods that fleep,

Or difregard our follies, or that fit

Amus'd spectators of this bustling stage.
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 shunn'd and hated thee before.
Then we are free. Then liberty, like day,
Breaks on the foul, and by a flash 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 fong-
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 praife.

In that blest moment Nature, throwing wide Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile The author of her beauties, who, retir'd Behind his own creation, works unfeen By the impure, and hears his pow'r denied. Thou art the fource and centre of all minds, Their only point of reft, eternal Word! From thee departing, they are loft, and rove At random, without honour, hope, or peace. From thee is all that fooths the life of man, His high endeavour, and his glad fuccefs, 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 can'st, without thee we are poor; And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.

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