Or fertile only in its own disgrace, 770 785 The breath of Heav'n has chas'd it. In the heart No passion touches a discordant string, But all is harmony and love. Disease Is not: the pure and uncontaminate blood Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. 790 One song employs all nations; and all cry, "Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us!” The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks ! Shout to each cther, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy, 795 Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round. Behold the measure of the promise fill’d; . See Salem built, the labour of a God! Bright as a sun the sacred city shines; 800 All kingdoms and all princes of the earth Flock to that light; the glory of all lands Flows into her; unbounded is her joy, And endless her increase. Thy rams are there 810 Kncels with the native of the farthest west; And Æthiopia spreads abroad the hand, Thus heav'nward all things tend. For all were once 830 Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flow'rs And e’en the joy, that haply some poor heart Derives from Ileav'n, pure as the fountain is, Is sullied in the stream, taking a taint From touch of human lips, at best impure. O for a world in principle as chaste As this is gross and selfish! over which * Nebaioth and Kedar, the song of Ishmael, and progenitors of · the Arabs in the prophetick Seripture here alluded to, may be reasonably considered as representatives of the Gentiles at large. 13 Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway, Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, And thou hast made it thine by purchase since; Thy saints proclaim thee king; and in their hearts The veil is rent, rent too by priestly hauds, 880 890 To wand'ring sheep, resolv'd to follow none. Two gods divide them all—Pleasure and Gain; For these they live, they sacrifice to these. And in their service wage perpetual war. 894 With Conscience and with Thee. Lust in their hearts, And mischief in their hands, they roam the earth To prey upon each other; stubborn, fierce, High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace. Thy prophets speak of such; and noting down The features of the last degen’rate times, 900 Exhibit every lineament of these. Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest, Due to thy last and most effectual work, Thy word fulfill’d, the conquest of a world! 905 He is the happy man, whose life e’en now Shows somewhat of that happier life to come; Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil state, Is pleas'd with it, and, were he free to choose, Would make his fate his choice; whom peace, the fruit Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith, 911 Prepare for happiness; bespeak him one Content indeed to sojourn while he must Below the skies, but having there his home. The world o’erlooks him in her busy search 915 Of objects more illustrious in her view; And occupied as earnestly as she, Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the World. She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not; He seeks not hers, for he has prov'd them vain. 920 · He cannot skim the ground like summer birds. . Pursuing gilded flies; and such he deems Her honours, her emoluments, her joys. Therefore in contemplation is his bliss, Whose pow'r is such, that whom she lifts from earth She makes familiar with a Heay’n unseen, 926 And shows him glories yet to be reveal’d. Not slothful he, though seeming unemployed, And censur'd oft as useless. Stillest streams Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird 930 That flutters least is longest on the wing. Ask him, indeed, what trophies he has rais’d, Or what achievements of immortal fame He purposes, and he shall answer-None. His warfare is within. There, unfatigu’d, 935 His fervent spirit labours. There he fights And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself, And never-with’ring wreaths, compar'd with which, The laurels that a Cæsar reaps are weeds. Perhaps the self-approving, haughty world, That as she sweeps him with her whistling silks Scarce deigns to notice him, or if she see, Deems him a cipher in the works of God, Receives advantage from his noiseless hours, of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes 945 Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring And plenteous harvest, to the pray’r he makes, When, Isaac like, the solitary saint Walks forth to meditate at eventide, And think on her who thinks not for herself. 950 Forgive him, then, thou bustler in concerns 940 |