The Christian Triumph.
65
Great! Good! Wife! Wonderful! Eternal King!
If to those conscious Stars thy Throne around,
Praise ever-pouring, and imbibing Bliss;
And ask their Strain; They want it, more they want,
Poor their Abundance, humble their Sublime,
Languid their Energy, their Ardor cold,
Indebted still, their highest Rapture burns;
Short of its Mark, defective, tho' divine.
Still more—This Theme is Man's, and Man's alone;
Their vast Appointments reach it not: They see
On Earth a Bounty not indulg'd on high;
And downward look for Heav'n's superior Praise!
First-born of Ether! high in Fields of Light!
View Man, to see the Glory of your God!
Could Angels envy, they had envy'd here;
And some did envy; and the rest, tho' Gods,
Yet still Gods unredeem'd (there triumphs Man,
Tempted to weigh the Dust against the Skies)
They less would feel, tho' more adorn, my Theme.
They sung Creation (for in that they shar'd);
How rose in Melody, the Child of Love!
Creation's great Superior, Man! is Thine;
Thine is Redemption; They just gave the Key;
'Tis Thine to raise, and eternize, the Song;
Tho' human, yet divine; for should not this
Raise Man o'er Man, and kindle Seraphs here?
Redemption! 'twas Creation more sublime;
Redemption! 'twas the Labour of the Skies;
Far more than Labour—It was Death in Heav'n.
A Truth so strange! 'twere bold to think it true;
If not far bolder still, to disbelieve.
Here pause, and ponder: Was there Death in Heav'n?
What then on Earth? On Earth, which struck the Blow?
Who struck it? Who?—O how is Man inlarg'd,
Seen thro' this Medium! How the Pygmy tow'rs!
If to those conscious Stars thy Throne around,
Praise ever-pouring, and imbibing Bliss;
And ask their Strain; They want it, more they want,
Poor their Abundance, humble their Sublime,
Languid their Energy, their Ardor cold,
Indebted still, their highest Rapture burns;
Short of its Mark, defective, tho' divine.
Still more—This Theme is Man's, and Man's alone;
Their vast Appointments reach it not: They see
On Earth a Bounty not indulg'd on high;
And downward look for Heav'n's superior Praise!
First-born of Ether! high in Fields of Light!
View Man, to see the Glory of your God!
Could Angels envy, they had envy'd here;
And some did envy; and the rest, tho' Gods,
Yet still Gods unredeem'd (there triumphs Man,
Tempted to weigh the Dust against the Skies)
They less would feel, tho' more adorn, my Theme.
They sung Creation (for in that they shar'd);
How rose in Melody, the Child of Love!
Creation's great Superior, Man! is Thine;
Thine is Redemption; They just gave the Key;
'Tis Thine to raise, and eternize, the Song;
Tho' human, yet divine; for should not this
Raise Man o'er Man, and kindle Seraphs here?
Redemption! 'twas Creation more sublime;
Redemption! 'twas the Labour of the Skies;
Far more than Labour—It was Death in Heav'n.
A Truth so strange! 'twere bold to think it true;
If not far bolder still, to disbelieve.
Here pause, and ponder: Was there Death in Heav'n?
What then on Earth? On Earth, which struck the Blow?
Who struck it? Who?—O how is Man inlarg'd,
Seen thro' this Medium! How the Pygmy tow'rs!
How
