A midnight new! a dread eclipse (without 250 Which bow'd his blessed head, o'erwhelm'd his cross, Made groan the centre, burst earth's marble womb With pangs, strange pangs! deliver'd of her dead? 255 Hell howl'd; and Heaven that hour let fall a tear: Heaven wept, that men might smile! Heaven bled. that man Might never die ! And is devotion virtue? 'tis compell'd. What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like these? Such contemplations mount us, and should mount 261 The mind still higher, nor ever glance on man Unraptured, uninflamed.-Where roll'd my thoughts To rest from wonders? other wonders rise, And strike where'er they roll: my soul is caught: 265 Heaven's sovereign blessings, clustering from the cross, Rush on her, in a throng, and close her round, The prisoner of amaze !--In his bless'd life I see the path, and in his death the price, 270 He rose! he rose ! he burst the bars of Death Lift up your heads, ye everlasting Gates! And give the King of glory to come in. 275 Who is the King of glory? he who left 280 The ravenous foe that gorged all human race! The King of glory He, whose glory fill'd And with divine complacency beheld Powers most illumined, wilder'd in the theme. 285 The theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain ? Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of light, 295 Was then transferr'd to death; and Heaven's duratior Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame, This child of dust.-Man, all immortal! hail; Hail, Heaven! All lavish of strange gifts to man! Thine all the glory, man's the boundless bliss! 300 Where am I rapp'd by this triumphant theme, On Christian joy's exulting wing, above The' Acnian mount!-Alas! small cause for joy! Of being, to preclude a close of woe? 305 Where, then, my boast of immortality? I boast it still, though cover'd o'er with guilt. For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd; 'Tis guilt alone can justify his death; 310 My name in Heaven with that inverted spear (A spear deep dipped in blood) which pierced his side, And open'd there a font for all mankind, 315 Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink and live: This, only this, subdues the fear of death! And what is this?-Survey the wondrous cure, 320 Persisted to provoke! though wooed, and awed; 325 Nor I alone! a rebel universe! My species up in arms not one exempt! Most joy'd for the redeem'd from deepest guilt! 330 As if our race were held of highest rank; And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man!' Bound, every heart; and, every bosom, burn! O what a scale of miracles is here! Its lowest round high planted on the skies, 335 Its towering summit lost beyond the thought Of man or angel! O that I could climb The wonderful ascent, with equal praise! Will give thee leave) my praise! for ever flow; 340 Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high Heaven And all her spicy mountains in a flame. So dear, so due to Heaven, shall Praise descend With her soft plume (from plausive angels' wing 345 First pluck'd by man) to tickle mortal ears, Thus diving in the pockets of the great? Is praise the perquisite of every paw, Though black as hell, that grapples well for gold? O, love of gold! thou meanest of amours! 350 355 Their future ornaments? From courts and thrones 360 Back to the fountain, to that parent Power Who gives the tongue to sound, the thought to roar, 370 Of guilt to guilt, and turn their backs on thee, 375 380 Cut through the shades of hell, great Love! by thee, Oh most adorable! most unadored! Where shall that praise begin, which ne'er should end? Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause! How is Night's sable mantle labour'd o'er, How richly wrought with attributes divine! 385 What wisdom shines; what love! This midnight pomp, This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlaid! 990 395 And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car? What mean these questions ?--Trembling I retract; My prostrate soul adores the present God! Praise I a distant Deity? He tunes 400 My voice (if tuned ;) the nerve that writes sustains: But though past all diffused, without a shore 405 Since finite every nature but his own. The nameless He, whose nod is Nature's birth, 410 415 As that to central horrors he looks down On all that soars, and spans immensity. Boundless Creation! what art thou? a beam, Though night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view, A mere effluvium of his majesty. 420 And shall an atom of this atom world Mutter, in dust and sin, the theme of Heaven? 425 Down to the centre should I send my thought, 430 And ask their strain: they want it, more they want. Poor their abundance, humble their sublime, Languid their energy, their ardour cold; Indebted still, their highest rapture burns, 435 Short of its mark, defective though divine! Still more this theme is man's, and man's alone; |