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The Saviour Son be glorify'd,

Who for loft man's redemption dy'd ;.
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee!

$262. A Night Piece. Mifs CARTER.

WHILE night in folemn fhade invefts the pole,
And calm reflection foothes the penfive foul;
While reafon undisturb'd afferts her fway,
And life's deceitful colours fade away;
To thee, All-confcious Prefence! I devote
This peaceful interval of fober thought:
Here all my better faculties confine;
And be this hour of facred filence thine!

If, by the day's illufive fcenes misled,
My erring foul from virtue's path has stray'd;
Snar'd by example, or by paffion warm'd,
Some falfe delight my giddy fenfe has charm'd;
My calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove,
And my beft hopes are center'd in thy love.
Depriv'd of this, can life one joy afford?
Its utmoft boaft a vain unmeaning word.

But, ah how oft my lawless paffions rove,
And break thofe awful precepts I approve!
Purfue the fatal impulfe I abhor,
And violate the virtue I adore!
Oft, when thy better Spirit's guardian care
Warn'd my fond foul to fhun the tempting fnare,
My ftubborn will his gentle aid repreft,

And check'd the rifing goodness in my breast;
Mad with vain hopes, or urg'd by falfe defires,
Still'd his foft voice, and quench'd his facred fires.
With grief opprefs'd, and proftrate in the duft,
Should't thou condemn, I own thy fentence juft.
But, oh, thy fofter titles let me claim,
And plead my caufe by Mercy's gentle name.
Mercy! that wipes the penitential tear,
And diffipates the horrors of defpair;
From righteous juftice fteals the vengeful hour,
Softens the dreadful attribute of pow'r,
Difarms the wrath of an offended God,
And feals my pardon in a Saviour's blood!
All-powerful Grace, exert thy gentle fway,
And teach my rebel paffions to obey;
Left lurking Folly, with infidious art,
Regain my volatile inconftant heart!
Shall every high refolve Devotion frames
Be only lifeless founds and fpecious names ?
O rather, while thy hopes and fears controul,
In this ftill hour, each motion of my soul,
Secure its fafety by a fudden doom,
And be the foft retreat of fleep my tomb!
Calm let me flumber in that dark repofe,
Till the laft morn its orient bean disclose:
Then, when the great archangel's potent
Shall echo thro' creation's ample round,
Wak'd from the fleep of death, with joy furvey
The op'ning fplendors of eternal day.


$263. Ode to Melancholy. CARTER. COME, Melancholy! filent pow'r, Companion of my lonely hour,

To fober thought confin'd!
Thou fweetly fad ideal guest,
In all thy foothing charms confeft,
Indulge my penfive mind.
No longer wildly hurried through
The tides of mirth that ebb and flow
In folly's noify ftream,


from the bufy crowd retire,
To court the objects that inspire
Thy philofophic dream."

Thro' yon dark grove of mournful yews,
With folitary fteps, I mufe,

By thy direction led:

Here, cold to pleafure's tempting forms,
Confociate with my fifter worms,

And mingle with the dead.

Ye midnight horrors! awful gloom !
Ye filent regions of the tomb,

My future peaceful bed;
Here fhall my weary eyes be clos'd,
And ev'ry forrow lie repos'd

In death's refreshing shade.
Ye pale inhabitants of night,
Before my intellectual fight

In folemn pomp afcend:
O tell how trifling now appears
The train of idle hopes and fears,
That varying life attend!

Ye faithlefs idols of our fenfe,
Here own how vain your fond pretence,

Ye empty names of joy!
Your tranfient forms like fhadows pass,
Frail offspring of the magic-glass,

Before the mental eye.

The dazzling colours, falfely bright,
Attract the gazing vulgar fight:

With fuperficial state:
Thro' reafon's clearer optics view'd,
How ftripp'd of all its pomp, how rude,
Appears the painted cheat!

Can wild ambition's tyrant pow'r,
Or ill-got wealth's fuperfluous ftore,

The dread of death controul?
Can pleafure's more bewitching charms
Avert or foothe the dire alarms

That shake the parting foul?
Religion! ere the hand of Fate
Shall make Reflection plead too late,
My erring fenfes teach,
Amidft the flatt'ring hopes of youth,
To meditate the folemn truth
Thefe awful relics preach.
Thy penetrating beams difperfe
The mift of error, whence our fears
Derive their fatal fpring:
'Tis thine the trembling heart to warm,
And foften to an angel form

The pale terrific king.

When funk by guilt in fad defpair,
Repentance breathes her humble pray'r,


And owns thy threat'nings juft;
Thy voice the fhudd'ring fuppliant cheers,
With mercy calms her torturing fears,
And lifts her from the duft.

Sublim'd by thee, the foul afpires
Beyond the range of low defires,

In nobler views elate;

Unmov'd her deftin'd change furveys,
And arm'd by faith, intrepid pays
The univerfal debt.

In death's foft flumber lull'd to rest,
She fleeps, by fimiling vifions bleft,

That gently whisper peace,
Till the laft morn's fair op'ning ray
Unfolds the bright eternal day
Of active life and blifs.

§ 264. Written at Midnight in a Thunder-
Storm. CARTER.

LET coward Guilt, with pallid Fear,
To fhelt'ring caverns fly,
And justly dread the vengeful fate
That thunders through the sky.
Protected by that hand, whofe law
The threat'ning storms obey,
Intrepid Virtue fmiles fecure,
As in the blaze of day.

In the thick cloud's tremendous gloom,
The lightnings lurid glare,
It views the fame all-gracious Pow'r
That breathes the vernal air.

Thro' Nature's ever-varying scene,
By diffrent ways purfu'd,
The one eternal end of Heav'n
Is univerfal good.

With like beneficent effect

O'er flaming ather glows,

As when it tunes the linnet's voice,
Or blushes in the rofe.

By reafon taught to scorn those fears
That vulgar minds moleft,
Let no fantaftic terrors break
My dear Narciffa's rest.

Thy life may all the tend'reft care
Of Providence defend;

And delegated angels, round

Their guardian wings extend!
When thro' creation's vaft expanfe
The laft dread thunders roll,
Untune the concord of the fpheres,
And thake the rifing foul;
Unmov'd may 'ft thou the final storm
Of jarring worlds furvey,
That ushers in the glad forene
Of everlasting day!

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Whence drew I being? to what period tend ▸
Am I th'abandon'd orphan of blind chance,
Dropp'd by wild atoms in diforder'd dance?
Or from an endless chain of causes wrought,
And of unthinking fubftance, born with thought?
By motion which began without a caufe,
Supremely wife, without defign or laws?
Am I but what I feem, mere flesh and blood?
A branching channel, with a mazy flood?
The purple ftream that thro' my veffels glides,
Dull and unconfcious flows, like common tides;
The pipes thro' which the circling juices ftray,.
Are not that thinking I, no more than they:
This frame compacted with tranfcendent skill,
Of moving joints obedient to my will,
Nurs'd from the fruitful glebe, like yonder tree,
Waxes and waftes; I call it mine, not me.
New matter still the mould'ring mafs fuftains;
The manfion chang'd, the tenant ftill remains,
And from the fleeting stream, repair'd by food,
Diftinct, as is the fwimmer from the flood.

What am I then? fure of a noble birth;
By parents right, I own as mother, Earth;
But claim fuperior lineage by my fire,
Who warm'd th'unthinking clod with heav'nly
Effence divine, with lifelefs clay allay'd, [fire;
By double nature, double instinct fway'd:
With look erect, I dart my longing eye,
Seem wing'd to part, and gain my native sky;
I ftrive to mount, but ftrive, alas! in vain,
Ty'd to this maily globe with magic chain.
Now with fwift thought I range from pole to pole,
View worlds around their flaming centres roll:
What fteady pow'rs their endless motions guide
Thro' the fame trackless paths of boundlets void!
I trace the blazing comet's fiery tail,
And weigh the whirling planets in a scale;
Thefe godlike thoughts, while eager I purfue,
Some glitt'ring trifle offer'd to my view,
A gnat, an infect of the meaneft kind,
Erafe the new-born image from my mind:
Some beaftly want, craving, importunate,
Vile as the grinning mastiff at my gate,

Calls off from heav'nly truth this reas'ning me,
And tells me I'm a brute as much as he.
If, on fublimer wings of love and praife,
My foul above the ftarry vault I raife,
Lur'd by fome vain conceit, or fhameful luft,
I flag, I drop, and flutter in the duft.
The tow'ring lark thus, from her lofty strain,
Stoops to an emmet, or a barley grain.
By adverfe gufts of jarring inftincts toft,
I rove to one, now to the other coaft;
To blifs unknown my lofty foul afpires,
My lot unequal to my vaft defires.
As 'mongst the hinds a child of royal birth
Finds his high pedigree by confcious worth,
So man, amongft his fellow brutes expos'd,
Secs he's a king; but 'tis a king depos'd.


Pity him, beafts! you by no law confin'd,
Are barr'd from devious paths by being blind;
Whilft man, thro' op'ning views of various ways
Confounded, by the aid of knowledge ftrays;
Too weak to choofe, yet choofing ftill in hafte,
One moment gives the pleafure and diftafte;
Bilk'd by paft minutes, while the prefent cloy,
The flatt'ring future ftill muft give the joy :
Not happy, but amus'd upon the road,
And (like you) thoughtlefs of his laft abode,
Whether next fun his being fhall restrain
To endless nothing, happinefs, or pain.
Around me, lo! the thinking thoughtless crew
(Bewilder'd each) their diff'rent paths purfue;
Of them I ask the way; the first replies,
Thou art a god; and fends me to the skies:
Down on the turf, the next, two two-legg'd beaft,
There fix thy lot, thy blifs, and endless reft:
Between thefe wide extremes the length is fuch,

I find I know too little or too much.

Almighty Pow'r, by whofe moft wife command, Helplefs, forlorn, uncertain here I stand; Take this faint glimm'ring of thyfelf away, Or break into my foul with perfect day !'' This faid, expanded lay the facred text, The balm, the light, the guide of fouls perplex'd. Thus the benighted traveller that ftrays Thro' doubtful paths, enjoys the morning rays: The nightly mift, and thick defcending dew, Parting, unfold the fields and vaulted blue.

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O Truth divine! enlighten'd by thy ray,
I grope and guefs no more, but fee my way;
Thou clear'dft the fecret of my high defcent,
And told me what those myftic tokens meant;
Marks of my birth, which I had worn in vain,
Too hard for worldly fages to explain.
Zeno's were vain, vain Epicurus' fchemes,
Their fyftems falfe, delufive were their dreams;
Unfkill'd my twofold nature to divide,


One nurs'd my pleafure, and one nurs'd my pride; Thofe jarring truths which human art beguile, Thy facred page thus bids me reconcile.' Offspring of God, no lefs thy pedigree, [be, What thou once wert, art now, and still may Thy God alone can tell, alone decree ; Faultlefs thou dropp'dft from his unerring fkill, With the bare pow'r to fin, fince free of will: Yet charge not with thy guilt his bounteous love: For who has pow'r to walk has pow'r to rove: Who acts by force impell'd can nought deferve; And wifdom fhort of infinite may fwerve. Borne on thy new-imp'd wings, thou took'ft thy Left thy Creator, and the realms of light; [flight, Difdan'd his gentle precept to fulfil; And thought to grow a god by doing ill: Tho' by foul guilt thy heav'nly form defac'd, In nature chang'd, from happy manfions chac'd, Thou fill retain'ft fome fparks of heav'nly fire, To faint to mount, yet reftlefs to afpire; Angel enough to feek thy blifs again, And brute enough to make thy fearch in vain. The creatures now withdraw their kindly ufe; Seine fly thee, fome torment, and fome feduce; Repaft ill-uited to fuch diff'rent gucfts, For what thy fenfe defires, thy foul distastes;

Thy luft, thy curiofity, thy pride,
Curb'd, or deferv'd, or baulk'd, or gratify'd,
Rage on, and make thee equally unblefs'd [feis'd.
In what thou want'ft, and what thou haft pof-
In vain thou hop'ft for blifs on this poor clod;
Return and feck thy Father and thy God;
Yet think not to regain thy native fky,
Borne on the wings of vain philofophy;
Myfterious paffage hid from human eyes;
Soaring you'll fink, and finking you will rife:
Let humble thoughts thy wary footsteps guide,
Repair by meeknefs what you loft by pride.

§ 266. The Frailty and Folly of Man. PRIOR.
GREAT Heav'n' how frail thy creature man is
How by himself infenfibly betray'd! [made!
Too little cautious of the adverfe pow'r;
In our own ftrength unhappily fecure,
We wish to charm, and feek to be belov'd.
And by the blast of felf-opinion mov'd,
On pleasure's flowing brink we idly stray,
Mafters as yet of our returning way:
Seeing no danger, we difarm our mind;
Then in the flow'ry mead, or verdant shade,
And give our conduct to the waves and wind:
To wanton dalliance negligently laid,
We weave the chaplet, and we crown the bowl,
And fmiling fee the nearer waters roll;
Till the ftrong gufts of raging paffion rife;
Till the dire tempeft mingles earth and skies;
And fwift into the boundlefs ocean borne,
Our foolish confidence too late we mourn:
Round our devoted heads the billows beat: [treat
And from our troubled view the leffen'd lands re

§ 267. A Paraphrafe on the latter Part of the Sixth Chapter of St. Matthew. THOMSON. WHEN my breaft labours with oppreffive care,

And o'er my check defcends the falling tear; While all my warring paffions are at strife, O, let me liften to the words of life! Raptures deep-felt his doctrine did impart, And thus he rais'd from earth the drooping heart,

Think not, when all your scanty stores afford, Is fpread at once upon the fparing board; Think not, when worn the homely robe appears, While on the roof the howling tempeft bears, What farther fhall this feeble life fuftain, And what fhall clothe thefe fhiv'ring limbs again., Say, does not life its nourishment exceed ? And the fair body its invefting weed? Behold! and look away your low defpairSee the light tenants of the barren air: To them, nor ftores nor granaries belong; Nought but the woodland and the pleafing fongs Yet, your kind heav'nly Father bends his eye On the leaft wing that flits along the fky. To him they fing when fpring renews the plain; To him they cry in winter's pinching reign, Nor is their mufic nor their plaint in vain : He hears the gay and the diftrefsful call, And with unfparing bounty fills them all.


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Obferve the rifing lily's fnowy grace,
Obferve the various vegetable race;
They neither toil nor fpin, but careless grow,
Yet fee how warm they blufh! how bright they

What regal veftments can with them compare!
What king fo fhining! or what queen fo fair!
If, ceafelefs, thus the fowls of heav'n he feeds,
If o'er the fields fuch lucid robes he fpreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithlefs, fay?
Is he unwife? or, are ye lefs than they?

$268. The Genealogy of Chrift, as it is reprefented on the East Window of Winchefter College Chapel. Written at Winton School, by

Dr. LoWTH.

AT once to raife our rev'rence and delight,

To elevate the mind, and pleafe the fight,
To pour in virtue at th'attentive eye,
And waft the foul on wings of extacy;
For this the painter's art with nature vies,
And bids the vifionary faint arife:

Who views the facred forms in thought afpires,
Catches pure zeal, and as he gazes, fires;
Feels the fame ardour to his breaft convey'd ;
Is what he fees, and emulates the fhade.

Thy ftrokes, great Artist. fo fublime appear,
They check our pleasure with an awful fear;
While thro' the mortal line the God you trace;
Author himself, and Heir of Jeffe's race;
In raptures we admire thy bold defign,
And, as the fubject, own the hand divine.
While thro' thy work the rifing dav fhall ftream,
So long thall laft thine honour, praise, and name.
And may thy labours to the Mufe impart
Some enianation from her fifter art,
To animate the verfe, and bid it fhine
In colours cafy, bright, and strong as Thine!
Supine on earth an awful figure lies,
While fofteft flumbers feem to feal his eves;
The hoary fire Heav'n's guardian care demands,
And at his feet the watchful angel ftands.
The form auguft and large, the mien divine
Betray the founder of Mefhah's line.
Lo! from his loins the promis'd ftem afcends,
And high to Heav' its facred boughs extends;
Each limb productive of fome hero fprings,
And blooms luxuriant with a race of kings.
Th'eternal plant wide fpreads its arms around,
And with the mighty branch the myftic top is



And lo! the glories of th'illuftrious line
At their firft dawn with ripen'd fplendors fhine;
In David all exprefs'd; the good, the great,
The king, the hero, and the man complete..
Serene he fits, and fweeps the golden lyre,
And blends the prophet's with the poet's fire.
See with what art he ftrikes the vocal ftrings,
The God, his theme, infpiring what he fings!
Hark, or our cars delude us-from his tongue
Sweet flows, or feems to flow,-fome heav'nly


Oh could thine art arreft the fleeting found,
And paint the voice in magic numbers bound;
Could the warm fun, as erft when Memnon play'd,
Wake with his rifing beam the vocal shade,
Then might he draw th'attentive angels down,
Bending to hear the lay, fo fweet, fo like their own.
On either fide the monarch's offspring fhine,
And forfe adorn, and fome disgrace their line.
Hero Ammon glories; proud inceftuous lord!
This hand fuftains the robe, and that the fword.
Frowning and fierce, with haughty ftrides he
And on his horrid brow defiance lowrs. [tow'rs,
There Abfalom the ravish'd fceptre fways,
And his ftol'n honour all his fhame difplays:
The bafe ufurper Youth! who joins in one
The rebel fubject and th'ungrateful fon.

Amid the royal race, fee Nathan stand:
Fervent he feems to fpeak, and lift his hand;
His looks th'emotion of his foul difclofe,
And eloquence from ev'ry gefture flows.
Such, and fo ftern he came, ordain'd to bring
Th'ungrateful mandate to the guilty King:
When, at his dreadful voice, a fudden fmart
Shot thro'the trembling monarch's conscious heart
From his own lips condeinn'd; fevere decree!
Had his God prov'd fo ftern a Judge as He.
But man with frailty is ally'd by birth;
Confummate purity ne'er dwelt on earth:
Thro' all the foul, tho' virtue holds the rein,
Beats at the heart, and fprings in ev'ry vein,
Yet ever from the cleareft fource have ran
Some grofs alloy, some tincture of the man.

But who is he deep-mufing-in his mind,
He feems to weigh in reafon's feales mankind;
Fix'd contemplation holds his steady eyes-
I know the faget, the wheit of the wife.
Bleft with all man could wish, or prince obtain,
Yet his great heart pronounc'd thofe bleflings vain.
And lo! bright glittering in his facred hands,
In miniature the glorious temple stands.
Effulgent frame! ftupendous to behold!
Gold the ftrong valves, the roof of burnish'd gold,
The wand'ring ark, in that bright doom enfhrin'd
Spreads the strong light, eternal, unconfin'd!
Above th'unutterable glory plays

Prefence divine! and the full-ftreaming rays
Pour thro' reluctant clouds intolerable blaze.

But ftern oppreffion rends Reboam's reign;
See the gay prince, injurious, proud, and vain!
Th'imperial fceptre totters in his hand,
And proud rebellion triumphs in the land.
Curs'd with corruption's ever-fruitful fpring,
A beardlefs fenate and a haughty king.

There Afia, good and great, the fceptre bears,
| Juftice attends his peace, fuccefs his wars:
While virtue was his fword and Heav'n his shield,
Without controul the warrior fwept the field;
Loaded with fpoils, triumphant he return'd,
And half her fivarthy fons fad Ethiopia mourn'd,
But fince thy flagging piety decay'd,
And harter'd God's defence for human aid;
See their fair laurels wither on thy brow,
Nor herbs no healthful arts avail thee now,
Noris Heav'n chang'd,apoftate prince, but thou.

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No mean atonement does this lapfe require;
But fee the Son, you muft forgive the Sire:
He, † the just prince-with ev'ry virtue blefs'd,
He reign'd, and goodness all the inan poffefs'd;
Around his throne fair happiness and peace
Smooth'd ev'ry brow, and smil'd in ev'ry face.
As when along the burning waste he stray'd,
Where no pure ftreams in bubbling mazes play'd,
Where drought incumbent on the thirsty ground,
Longfince had breath'd her fcorching blafts around
The prophet calls, th'obedient floods repair
To the parch'd fields, for Jofaphat was there.
The new fpring waves, in many a gurgling vein,
Trickle luxurious thro' the fucking plain;
Fresh honours the reviving fields adorn,
And o'er the defart Plenty pours her horn.
So, from the throne his influence he fheds,
And bids the virtues raise their languid heads :
Where'er he goes, attending Truth prevails,
Oppreffion flies, and Juftice lifts her scales.
See, on his arm the royal eagle stand,
Great type of conqueft and fupreme command;
Th'exulting bird distinguish'd triumph brings,
And greets the Monarch with expanded wings.
Fierce Moab's fons prevent th'impending blow,
Rush on themfelves, and fall without the foe.
The pious hero vanquish'd Heav'n by pray'r;
His faith an army, and his vows a war.
Thee too, Ozias, fates indulgent bleft,
And thy days fhone in faireft actions dreft:
Till that rafh hand, by fome blind frenzy fway'd,
Unclean, the facred office durft invade.
Quick o'er thy limbs the fcurfy venom ran,
And hoary filth befprinkled all the man.

Tranfmiflive worth adorns the pious § Son,
The father's virtues with the father's throne.
Lo1 there he stands: he who the rage fubdu'd
Of Ammon's fons,and drench'd his sword in blood; |
And doft thou, Ahaz, Judah's fcourge, difgrace
With thy bafe front the glories of thy race?
See the vile king his iron fceptre bear-
His only praife attends the pious | Heir;
He, in whofe foul the virtues all confpire,
The best good fon from the worst wicked fire.
And lo! in Hezekiah's golden reign,
Long exil'd Piety returns again;
Again in genuine purity fhe fhines, [fhrines.
And with her prefence gilds the long-neglected
Ill-ftarr'd does proud Affyria's impious Lord
Bid Heav'n to arms, and vaunt his dreadful fword;
His own vain threats th'infulting king o'erthrow,
But breathe new courage on the gen'rous foc.
Th'avenging Angel, by divine command,
The fiery fword full-blazing in his hand,

Leant down from Heav'n: amid the ftorm he
March'd Peftilence before him; as he trod,[rode
Pale Defolation bath'd his fteps in blood.
Thick wrapt in night, thro' the proud hoft he past,
Difpenfing Death, and drove the furious blaft;
Nor bade destruction give her revels o'er [gore.
Till the gorg'd fword was drunk with human
But what avails thee, pious Prince? In vain
Thy fceptre refcu'd, and th'Affyrian flain !
+ Jofaphat.
Elicha. Jotham.

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Ev'n now the foul maintains her lateft ftrife,
And death's chill grafp congeals the fount of life.
Yet fee, kind Heav'n renews thy brittle thread,
And rolls full fifteen fummers o'er thy head;
Lo! the receding fun repeats his way,
And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day.
Tho' nature her inverted courfe forego,
The day forget to reft, the time to flow,
Yet fhall Jehovah's fervants ftand fecure,
His mercy fix'd, eternal fhall endure;
On them her ever-healing rays thall thine;
More mild and bright, and fure, O fun! than thine,
At length the long-expected Prince behold,
The last good King; in ancient days foretold,
When Bethel's altar fpoke his future fame,
Rent to its bafe, at good Jofiah's name.
Bleft, happy prince! o'er whofe lamented urn,
In plaintive fong, all Judah's daughters mourn;
For whom fad Sion's fofteft forrow flows,
And Jeremiah pours his fweet melodious woes.

But now fall'n Sion, once the fair and great,
Sits deep in duft, abandon'd, defolate;
Bleeds her fad heart, and ever stream her eyes,
And anguifh tears her with convulfive fighs.
The mournful captive spreads her hands in vain,
Her hands that rankle with the fervile chain;
Till he, ++ Great Chief! in Heav'n's appointed

Leads back her children to their native clime.
Fair liberty revives with all her joys,
And bids her envy'd walls fecurely rife.
And thou, great hallow'd doom, in ruin spread,
Again hall lift fublime thy facred head.
But, ah! with weeping eyes, the antients view
A faint refemblance of the old in you.
No more th'effulgent glory of thy God
Speaks awful anfwers from the myftic cloud :
No more thine altars blaze with fire divine,
And Heav'n has left thy folitary fhrine.
Yet, in thy courts, hereafter fhalt thou fee
Prefence immediate of the Deity, [in Thee.
The light himself reveal'd, the God confefs'd

And now at length the fated term of years The world's defire have brought, and lo! the God appears!

The Heav'nly Babe the Virgin Mother bears,
And her fond looks confefs the parent's cares ;
The pleafing burden on her breafts the lays,
Hangs o'er his charms, and with a fmile furveys:
The Infant finiles, to her fond bofom preft,
And wantons, fportive, on the mother's breast.
A radiant glory fpeaks him all Divine,
And in the Child the beams of Godhead fhine,
But now, alas! far other views difclofe
The blackeft comprehenfive fcene of woes.
See where man's voluntary facrifice
Bows his meek head, and God eternal dies!
Fixt to the Crofs, his healing arms are bound,
While copious Mercy ftreams from ev'ry wound.
Mark the blood-drops that life exhaufting roll,
And the ftrong pang that rends the ftubborn foul!
As all death's tortures, with fevere delay,
Exult and riot in the nobleft prey

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