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If seen with human eyes. The brute, indeed,

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Sees nought but spangles here; the fool, no more.
Say'st thou,' The course of Nature governs all ?' 1266
The course of Nature is the Art of God.
The miracles, thou call'st for, this attest;
For say, could Nature Nature's course control?
But, miracles apart, who sees him not
Nature's Controller, Author, Guide, and End?
Who turns his eye on Nature's midnight face,
But must inquire-' What hand behind the scene,
What arm Almighty, put these wheeling globes
In motion, and wound up the vast machine?
Who rounded in his palm these spacious orbs?
Who bowl'd them flaming through the dark profound,
Numerous as glittering gems of morning dew,
Or sparks from populous cities in a blaze,
And set the bosom of old Night on fire,
Peopled her desert, and made Horror smile?'
Or if the military style delights thee,

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(For stars have fought their battles, leagued with man) 'Who marshals this bright host? enrols their names, Appoints their post, their marches, and returns, 1285 Punctual, at stated periods? who disbands

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These veteran troops, their final duty done,
If e'er disbanded ?'-He, whose potent word,
Like the loud trumpet, levied first their powers
In Night's inglorious empire, where they slept
In beds of darkness; arm'd them with fierce flames;
Arranged, and disciplined, and clothed in gold,
And call'd them out of Chaos to the field,
Where now they war with Vice and Unbelief.
O let us join this army joining these
Will give us hearts intrepid, at that hour

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When brighter flames shall cut a darker night;
When these strong demonstrations of a God

Shall hide their heads, or tumble from their spheres, And one eternal curtain cover all !

Struck at that thought, as new-awaked, I lift

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A more enlighten'd eye, and read the stars
To man still more propitious, and their aid
(Though guiltless of idolatry) implore,
Nor longer rob them of their noblest name.

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O ye dividers of my time! ye bright

Accomptants of my days, and months, and years,

In your fair calendar distinctly mark'd!

Since that authentic, radiant register,

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Though man inspects it not, stands good against him;
Since you and years roll on, though man stands still,
Teach me my days to number, and apply

My trembling heart to wisdom, now beyond
All shadow of excuse for fooling on.

Age smooths our path to prudence, sweeps aside 1315
The snares keen appetite and passion spread
To catch stray souls; and woe to that gray head
Whose folly would undo what age has done!
Aid, then, aid, all ye Stars!-Much rather Thou,
Great Artist: Thou whose finger set aright
This exquisite machine, with all its wheels,
Though intervolved, exact; and pointing out
Life's rapid and irrevocable flight,

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With such an index fair as none can miss

Who lifts an eye, nor sleeps till it is closed.

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Open mine eye, dread Deity! to read

The tacit doctrine of thy works; to see

Things as they are, unalter'd through the glass
Of worldly wishes. Time, Eternity!

('Tis these, mismeasured, ruin all mankind)

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Set them before me; let me lay them both

In equal scale, and learn their various weight.

Let time appear a moment, as it is;

And let Eternity's full orb, at once,

Turn on my soul, and strike it into Heaven.

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When shall I see far more than charms me now

Gaze on Creation's model in thy breast

Unveil'd, nor wonder at the transcript more

When this vile, foreign dust, which smothers all

That travel earth's deep vale, shall I shake off?
When shall my soul her incarnation quit,
And, readopted to thy bless'd embrace,

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Obtain her apotheosis in thee?—

No;

Dost think, Lorenzo, this is wandering wide? 'tis directly striking at the mark.

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To wake thy dead devotion was my point;

And how I bless Night's consecrating shades,
Which to a temple turn a universe;

Fill us with great ideas, full of heaven,
And antidote the pestilential earth!

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In every storm, that either frowns or falls,
What an asylum has the soul in prayer!
And what a fane is this, in which to pray!
And what a God must dwell in such a fane!
O what a genius must inform the skies!
And is Lorenzo's salamander heart

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Cold, and untouch'd, amid these sacred fires ?

O ye nocturnal sparks! ye glowing embers,

On Heaven's broad hearth! Who burn, or burn no more,

Who blaze, or die, as great Jehovah's breath
Or blows you or forbears, assist my song!

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Pour your whole influence; exercise his heart,
So long possess'd, and bring him back to man.
And is Lorenzo a demurrer still?
Pride in thy parts provokes thee to contest
Truths which, contested, put thy parts to shame :
Nor shame they more Lorenzo's head than heart,
A faithless heart, how despicably small!
Too straight, aught great or generous to receive!
Fill'd with an atom! fill'd and foul'd with self!
And self-mistaken! self, that lasts an hour!
Instincts and passions of the nobler kind
Lie suffocated there; or they alone,

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Reason apart, would wake high hope, and open.
To ravish'd thought, that intellectual sphere,
Where Order, Wisdom, Goodness, Providence,
Their endless miracles of love display,

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And promise all the truly great desire.

The mind that would be happy must be great;
Great in its wishes, great in its surveys.

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Extended views a narrow mind extend,

Push out its corrugate, expansive make,

Which, ere long, more than planets shall embrace.
A man of compass makes a man of worth:

Divine contemplate, and become divine!

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As man was made for glory and for bliss,

All littleness is an approach to woe.

Open thy bosom, set thy wishes wide,
And let in manhood; let in happiness;

Admit the boundless theatre of thought

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From nothing, up to God; which makes a man.
Take God from Nature, nothing great is left;
Man's mind is in a pit, and nothing sees;
Man's heart is in a akes, and loves the mire.
Emerge from thy profound; erect thine eye;
See thy distress! how close art thou besieged!
Besieged by Nature, the proud sceptic's foe!
Enclosed by these innumerable worlds,
Sparkling conviction on the darkest mind,
As in a golden net of Providence,

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How art thou caught, sure captive of belief!
From this thy bless'd captivity what art,
What blasphemy to reason, sets thee free!
This scene is Heaven's indulgent violence;
Canst thou bear up against this tide of glory ›
What is earth, bosom'd in these ambient orbs,
But faith in God imposed, and press'd on man?
Darest thou still litigate thy desperate cause,

Spite of these numerous, awful witnesses,
And doubt the deposition of the skies'
O how laborious is thy way to ruin!
Laborious? 'tis impracticable quite :

To sink beyond a doubt in this debate,
With all his weight of wisdom and of will,
And crime flagitious, I defy a fool.

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Some wish they did, but no man disbelieves.
'God is a Spirit; spirit cannot strike
These gross material organs; God by man
As much is seen, as man a God can see.
In these astonishing exploits of power,

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What order, beauty, motion, distance, size!

Concertion of design, how exquisite !

How complicate in their divine police!

Apt means! great ends ! consent to general good!Each attribute of these material gods,

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So long (and that with specious pleas) adored,
A separate conquest gains o'er rebel thought,
And leads in triumph the whole mind of man.'

Lorenzo! this may seem harangue to thee;
Such all is apt to seem, that thwarts our will.
And dost thou, then, demand a simple proof
Of this great master-moral of the skies,
Unskill'd, or disinclin'd, to read it there?
Since 'tis the basis, and all drops without it,
Take it in one compact, unbroken chain.

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Such proof insists on an attentive ear,

"Twill not make one amid a mob of thoughts,

And for thy notice struggle with the world.

Retire; the world shut out;-thy thoughts call home;--Imagination's airy wing repress ;

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Lock up thy senses;-let no passion stir ;-
Wake all to Reason ;-let her reign alone

Then in the soul's deep silence, and the depth
Of Nature s silence, midnight, thus inquire,
As I have done, and shall inquire no more.
In Nature's channel thus the questions run:

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But that I am; and since I am, conclude

'What am I and from whence? -I nothing know

Something eternal; had there e'er been nought,

Nought still had been: eternal there must be.- 1459 But what eternal?-Why not human race?

And Adam's ancestors without an end?—

That's hard to be conceived, since every link

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