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Except through him—through him, who stands alone,

[atone! Of worth, of weight, allow'd for all mankind to

He rais'd the lame, the lepers he made whole,

He fix'd the palsied nerves of weak decay, He drove out Satan from the tortur'd soul,

And to the blind gave or restor'd the dayNay more-far more unequallid pangs sustain'd, Till his lost fallen flocks his taintless blood regain'd.

My feeble feet refus'd my body's weight,

Nor would my eyes admit the glorious light, My nerves convuls'd, shook, fearful of their fate,

My mind lay open to the powers of night. He, pitying, did a second birth bestow, A birth of joy--not like the first of tears and woe.

Ye strengthen'd feet, forth to his altar move ; Quicken, ye new-strung nerves, the' enraptur'd

lyre ; Ye heaven-directed eyes, o'erflow with love ;

Glow, glow, my soul, with pure seraphic fire; Deeds, thoughts, and words, no more his mandates

break, But to his endless glory work, conceive, and speak.

0! penitence, to virtue near allied,

Thou canst new joys e'en to the bless'd impart: The listening angels lay their harps aside,

To hear the music of thy contrite heart; And heaven itself wears a more radiant face, When charity presents thee to the throne of grace.

Chief of metallic forms is regal gold ;

Of elements, the limpid fount that flows; Give me, 'mongst gems the brilliant to behold;

O’er Flora's flock imperial is the rose: Above all birds the sovereign eagle soars ; And monarch of the field the lordly lion roars. What can with great leviathan compare,

Who takes his pastime in the mighty main ? What, like the sun, shines through the realms of air,

And gilds and glorifies the ethereal plainYet what are these to man, who bears the sway? For all was made for him—to serve and to obey. Thus in high heaven charity is great,

Paith, hope, devotion, hold a lower place; On her the cherubs and the seraphs wait,

Her, every virtue courts, and every grace; See! on the right, close by the’ Almighty's throne! In him she shines confess'd, who came to make her

known.

Deep-rooted in my heart then let her grow

That for the past the future may atone; That I may act what thou hast given to know,

That I may live for thee and thee alone, And justify those sweetest words from heaven, 66 That he shall love thee most* to whom thou'st

most forgiven.”

* Luke vii. 41, 42, 43,

ON THE

ETERNITY OF THE SUPREME BEING.

Hail, wondrous Being, who in power supreme
Exists from everlasting, whose great name
Deep in the human heart, and every atom,
The air, the earth, or azure main contains,
In undecipher'd characters is wrote-
Incomprehensible !-0 what can words,
The weak interpreters of mortal thoughts,
Or what can thoughts(though wild of wing they rove
Through the vast concave of the ethereal round)
If to the heaven of heavens they'd win their way
Advent'rous, like the birds of night they're lost,
And delug'd in the flood of dazzling day.

May then the youthful, uninspired bard Presume to hymn the’ Eternal; may he soar Where seraph, and where cherubim on high Resound the unceasing plaudits, and with them In the grand chorus mix his feeble voice ?

He may, if thou, who from the witless babe Ordainest honour, glory, strength, and praise, Uplift the' unpinion'd muse, and deign to' assist, Great Poet of the universe ! his song.

Before this earthly planet wound her course
Round light's perennial fountain, before light
Herself 'gan shine, and at the inspiring word
Shot to existence in a blaze of day,
Before “the morning stars together sang,"
And hail'd thee architect of countless worlds,

Thou art-all glorious, all beneficent,
All wisdom and omnipotence thou art.

But is the æra of creation fix'd
At when these worlds began? Could ought retard
Goodness, that knows no bounds, from blessing ever,
Or keep the immense Artificer in sloth ?
Avaunt the dust-directed crawling thought,
That Puissance immeasurably vast,
And bounty inconceivable, could rest
Content, exhausted with one week of action-
No-in the exertion of thy righteous power,
Ten thousand times more active than the sun,
Thou reign'd, and with a mighty hand compos’d
Systems innumerable, matchless all,
All stamp'd with thine uncounterfeited seal.

But yet (if still to more stupendous heights
The muse unblam'd her aching sense may strain)
Perhaps wrapt up in contemplation deep,
The best of beings on the noblest theme
Might ruminate at leisure, scope immense
The' eternal Power and Godhead to explore,
And with itself the omniscient mind replete.
This were enough to fill the boundless All,
This were a Sabbath worthy the Supreme !
Perhaps enthron'd amidst a choicer few,
Of spirits inferior, he might greatly plan
The two prime pillars of the universe,
Creation and redemption—and a while
Pause-with the grand presentments of his glory.

Perhaps—but all's conjecture here below,
All ignorance, and self-plum'd vanity-
O thou, whose ways to wonder at's distrust,
Whom to describe's presumption (all we can-
And all we may-) be glorified, be prais'd!

A day shall come when all this earth shall perish,
Nor leave behind ev'n Chaos : it shall come
When all the armies of the elements
Shall war against themselves, and mutual rage
To make perdition triumph ; it shall come,
When the capacious atmosphere above,
Shall in sulphureous thunders groan and die,
And vanish into void ; the earth beneath
Shall fever to the centre, and devour
The enormous blaze of the destructive flames.-
Ye rocks, that mock the raving of the floods,
And proudly frown upon the impatient deep,
Where is your grandeur now? Ye foaming waves,
That all along the immense Atlantic roar,
In vain ye swell ; will a few drops suffice
To quench the unextinguishable fire ? [cedars
Ye mountains, on whose cloud-crown'd tops the
Are lessen'd into shrubs, magnific piles,
That prop the painted chambers of the Heaven,
And fix the earth continual; Athos, where :
Where Teneriffe's thy stateliness to-day?
What, Etna, are thy flames to these ?-No more
Than the poor glow-worm to the golden sun.

Nor shall the verdant valleys then remain
Safe in their meek submission ; they the debt
Of nature and of justice too must pay.
Yet I must weep for you, ye rival fair,
Arno and Andalusia ; but for thee
More largely and with filial tears must weep,
O Albion, O my country! thou must join,
In vain dissever'd from the rest, must join
The terrors of the inevitable ruin.

Nor thou, illustrious monarch of the day:
Nor thou, fair queen of night; nor you, ye stars,

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