With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love
That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world
So cloath'd with beauty for rebellious man?
Yes-ye may fill your garners, ye that reap
The loaded foil, and ye may waste much good
In senseless riot; but ye will not find,
In feast or in the chace, in song or dance,
A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd
Of ufurpation, and to no man's wrong,
Appropriates nature as his Father's work,
And has a richer use of yours than you.
He is indeed a freeman; free by birth
Of no mean plann'd city, or e'er the hills
Were built, the fountains open'd, or the fea
With all his roaring multitude of waves.
His freedom is the fame in every state,
And no condition of his changeful life,
So manifold in cares, whofe ev'ry day
Brings its own evil with it, makes it lefs:
For he has wings that neither fickness, pain,
Nor penury, can cripple or confine;

No nook so narrow but he spreads them there
With eafe, and is at large. Th' oppreffor holds
His body bound, but knows not what a range
His fpirit takes, unconscious of a chain;
And that to bind him is a vain attempt,
Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells.
Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst taste

His works. Admitted once to his embrace,
Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before;
Thine eye shall be instructed, and thine heart
Made pure, shall relish with divine delight,
Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought.
Brutes graze the mountain-top with faces prone,
And eyes intent upon the scanty herb
It yields them; or recumbent on its brow,
Ruminate, heedless of the scene outspread
Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away
From inland regions to the distant main.
Man views it and admires, but rests content
With what he views. The landscape has his praise,
But not its Author. Unconcern'd who form'd
The paradise he sees, he finds it such,

And fuch well-pleas'd to find it, asks no more,
Not so the mind that has been touch'd from Heav'n,
And in the school of sacred wisdom taught

To read his wonders, in whose thought the world,
Fair as it is, existed e'er it was:

Not so for his own fake merely, but for his
Much more who fashion'd it, he gives it praise;
Praise that, from earth resulting, as it ought,
To earth's acknowledg'd Sovereign, finds at once
Its only just proprietor in Him.

The foul that fees him, or receives fublim'd
New faculties, or learns at least t' employ
More worthily the pow'rs she own'd before,

Difcerns in all things, what with stupid gaze
Of ignorance till then the overlook'd,
A ray of heavn'ly light gilding all forms
Terrestrial, in the vast and the minute,
The unambiguous footsteps of the God
Who gives its luftre to an infects wing,
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds.
Much converfant with Heav'n, the often holds
With those fair ministers of light to man,
That fill the skies nightly with filent pomp,
Sweet conference; enquires what strains were they
With which Heav'n rang, when ev'ry star, in hafte
To gratulare 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 fea 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 ours, tranfgreffors from the womb,
"And hafting to a grave, yet doom'd to rife,
And to poffefs a brighter heav'n than yours?
"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 shew 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 success, "And that infus'd from Heav'n must thither tend."

So reads he Nature, when the lamp of truth

Illuminates; thy lamp, mysterious word!
Which whoso sees 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. Theirs 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 ufe.
Till thou art heard, imaginations vain
Possess the heart, and fables false as hell,
Yet deem'd oracular, lure down to death

The uniform'd and heedless fons 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 scrunity, and prov'd
Then skilful most when most severely judg'd.
But chance is not; or is not where thou reign'st:
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
Inftruction and inventing to ourselves
Gods such as guilt make welcome, Gods that fleep,
Or difregard our follies, or that fit
Amus'd spectators of this bustling ftage,
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 Hofanna fent from all thy works,
Which he that hears it with a fhout, repeats,
And adds his rapture to the gen'ral praise.
In that blest moment, Nature throwing wide,