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The countenance of God he faw,

Full of mercy full of awes

The glories of his pow'r and glories of his grace: 75 There he beheld the wondrous fprings

Of thofe celeftial facred things,

The peaceful gospel and the fiery law

In that majestick face;

That face did all his gazing pow'rs employ

With most profound abasement and exalted joy.

The rolls of Fate were half unfeal'd,

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He food adoring by,

The volumes open'd to his eye,

And sweet intelligence he held

With all his fhining kindred of the sky.

VH.

Ye feraphs that furround the throne

Tell how his name was thro' the palace known,
How warm his zeal was, and how like your own:
Speak it aloud, let half the nation hear,

And bold blafphemers fhrink and fear t.
Impudent tongues! to blaft a Prophet's name!
The poifon fure was fetch'd from hell,
Where the old blafphemers dwell,

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To taint the purest dust and blot the whiteft fame. Impudent tongues! you should be darted thro', 96 Nail'd to your own black mouths, and lie

Ufelefs and dead till Slander die,

Till Slander die with you.

Tho' he was fo great and good a man he did not escape cenfure.

VIII.

"We faw him," say the ethereal throng,
"We faw his warm devotions rife,
"We heard the fervour of his cries,
"And mix'd his praises with our fong;

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"We knew the fecret flights of his retiring hours, Nightly he wak'd his inward pow'rs;

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Young Ifrael rofe to wrestle with his God, [tow'rs "And with unconquer'd force fcal'd the celestial "To reach the bleffing down for those that sought "Oft' we beheld the Thund'rer's hand

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[his blood. Rais'd high to crush the factious foe, "As oft' we saw the rolling Vengeance stand "Doubtful t' obey the dread command,

"While his afcending pray'r upheld the fallingblow."

IX.

Draw the paft fcenes of thy delight

My Mufe, and bring the wondrous man to fight;

Place him furrounded as he flood

With pious crowds, while from his tongue

A ftream of harmony ran foft along,

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And ev'ry ear drank in the flowing good:

Softly it ran its filver way

Till warm devotion rais'd the current ftrong,
Then fervid zeal on the fweet deluge rode,
Life, love, and glory, grace and joy,

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Divinely roll'd promifcuous on the torrent flood, And bore our raptur'd fenfe away and thoughts and

fouls to God.

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O might we dwell for ever there,

No more return to breathe this groffer air,
This atmosphere of fin, calamity, and care!

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He ftands the herald of the threat'ning skies;

Lo on his rev'rend brow the frowns divinely rife,
All Sinai's thunder on his tongue and lightning in
Round the high roof the curfes flew,

Diftinguishing each guilty head,

Far from th' unequal war the Atheist fled,

His kindled arrows ftill pursue,

His arrows ftrike the Atheist thro',

[his eyes!

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[fpread.

And o'er his inmost pow'rs a shudd'ring horrour
The marble heart groans with an inward wound;
Blafpheming fouls of harden'd fteel

Shriek out amaz'd at the new pangs they feel,
And dread the echoes of the found:

The lofty wretch arm'd and array'd

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In gaudy pride finks down his impious head, Plunges in dark despair and mingles with the dead.

XI.

Now Mufe affume a fofter ftrain,
Now footh the finner's raging fmart,
Borrow of Gouge the wondrous art

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To calm the furging confcience and affuage the pain. He from a bleeding God derives

Life for the fouls that guilt had flain,

And straight the dying rebel lives,

The dead arife again.

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The op'ning fkies almost obey

His pow'rful fong; a heav'nly ray

Awakes despair to light and sheds a cheerful day.

His wondrous voice rolls back the fpheres,

Recalls the fcenes of ancient years,

To make the Saviour known;

Sweetly the flying charmer roves

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Thro' all his labours and his loves,

The anguifh of his cross and triumphs of his throne.

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Words fit to heal and fit to wound,

Sharp as the fpear and balmy as the blood.

Volume VI.

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In his difcourfe divine

Afresh the purple fountain flow'd,

Our falling tears kept fympathetick time

And trickled to the ground,

While ev'ry accent gave a doleful found,

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Sad as the breaking heart-ftrings of th' expiring God.

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And fhed a fweet perfume.

Hark, the old earthquake roars again
In Gouge's voice, and breaks the chain
Of heavy death, and rends the tombs ;

The rifing God! he comes, he comes,

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[train!

With throngs of waking faints, a long triumphing

XIV.

See the bright fquadrons of the fky

Downward on wings of joy and haste they fly,

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Meet their returning Sov'reign and attend him high. A fhining car the Conq'ror fills

Form'd of a golden cloud

Slowly the pomp moves up the azure hiils,
Old Satan foams and yells aloud,

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