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THE COUNTRY PARSON.
He that has these, may pass his life,
IBID. p. 13
M A N. AWAKE, my St. John! Ieave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of Kings. Let us (since life can little more supply Than just to look about us, and to die) Expatiate free o’er all this scene of Man; A mighty maze! but not without a plan; A wild, where weeds and flow'rs promiscuous
fhoot; Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit. Together let us beat this ample field, Try what the open, what the covert yield ! The latent tracts, the giddy Heights, explore Of all who blindly creep, or fightless foar; Eye Nature's walks, fhoot Folly as it flies, And catch the Manners living as they rise ; Laugh where we must, be candid where we can ; But vindicate the ways of God to Man.
Say first, of God above, or Man below, What can we reason, but from what we know? Of Man, what fee we but his station here, From which to reason, or to which refer? Thro' worlds unnumber'd tho' the God be known, 'Tis ours to trace him only in our own. He, who thro' vast immenfity can pierce, See worlds on worlds compofe one universe,
Obferve how fyftem into system runs,
Is the great chain, that draws all to agree, And drawn supports, upheld by God, or thee?
Presumptuous Man! the reason wouldt thou find, Why form'd so weak, fo little, and so blind? First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess, Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less. Ak of thy mother Earth, why oaks are made Taller and stronger than the weeds they shade; Or ask of yonder argent fields above, Why Yove's Satellites are lefs than Jove ?
Of Systems poflible, if 'tis confeft, That Wisdom infinite must form the best, Where all must full, or not coherent be, And all that rises, rise in due degree; Then, in the scale of reas'ning life, 'tis plain, There must be, fomewhere, such a rank as Man: And all the question (wrangle e'er so long) Is only this, if God has plac'd him wrong?
Respecting Respecting Man, whatever wrong we call May, must be right, as relative to all. In human works, though labour'd on with pain, A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain : In God's, one single can its end produce ; Yet serves to second too some other use. So Man, who here seems principal alone, Perhaps acts fecond to some sphere unknown, Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal ; 'Tis but a part we fee, and not a whole.
When the proud fteed shall know why man
restrains His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains ; When the dull Ox, why now he breaks the clod, Is now a victim, and now Ægypt's God; Then shall Man's pride and dullness comprehend His actions', paffions', being's, usę and end; Why doing, suff'ring, check’d, impell’d; and why This hour a slave, the next a deity.
Then say not Man's imperfect, Heav'n in fault: Say rather, Man's as perfect as he ought ; His knowledge measur'd to his state and place; His time a moment, and a point his space. If to be perfect in a certain sphere, What matter, foon or late, or here or there? The blest to-day is as completely so, As who began a thousand years ago.
Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of Fate,
Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions foar;
Lo, the poor Indian; whose untutor'd mind