The various season woven into one,
And that one season an eternal spring.
The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence;
For there is none to covet, all are full.
The lion, and the libbard, and the bear,
Graze with the fearless flocks.
Together, or all gambol in the shade
Of the same grove, and drink one common stream. Antipathies are none. No foe to man
Lurks in the serpent now.
And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand
Stretch'd forth to dally with the crested worm;
To stroke his azure neck, or to receive
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue.
All creatures worship man, and all mankind
One Lord, One Father. Error has no place;
That creeping pestilence is driv'n away,
The breath of Heav'n has chas'd it. In the heart
No passion touches a discordant string,
But all is harmony and love.
Is not. The pure and uncontaminate blood
Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age;
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 other, and the mountain tops,
From distant mountains catch the flying joy,
Till nation after nation, taught the strain,
Each rolls the rapturous Hosanna round.
Behold the treasure of the promise fill'd,
See Salem built, the labour of a God!
Bright as a sun the sacred city shines;
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
Nabaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there;
The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind,
And Saba's spicy groves pay tribute there.
Praise is in all her gates. Upon her walls,
And in her streets, and in her spacious courts
Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there
Kneels with the native of the farthest West,
And Ethiopia spreads abroad the hand
And worships. Her report has travell❜d forth
Into all lands. From every clime they come
To see thy beauty and to share thy joy,
O Sion! an assembly such as earth
Saw never, such as Heav'n stoops down to see.
Thus heav'n-ward all things tend. For all were
Perfect, and all must be at length restor❜d.
So God has greatly purpos'd; who would else
In his dishonour'd works himself endure
Dishonour, and be wrong'd without redress.
Haste then, and wheel away a shatter'd world,
Ye slow revolving seasons!
We would see,
(A sight to which our eyes are strangers yet)
A world that does not dread and hate his laws,
And suffer for its crime: would learn how fair
The creature is that God pronounces good,
How pleasant in itself what pleases him.
Here ev'ry drop of honey hides a sting.
Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flow'rs.
And e'en the joy that haply some poor heart
Derives from Heav'n, pure as the fountain is,
Is sullied in the stream: taking a taint
From touch of human lips, at best impure.
Oh for a world in principle as chaste
As this is gross and selfish! over which
Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway,
That govern all things here, should'ring aside
The meek and modest Truth, and forcing her
To seek a refuge from the tongue of Strife
In nooks obscure, far from the ways of men;
Where violence shall never lift the sword,
Nor cunning justify the proud man's wrong,
Leaving the poor no remedy but tears.
Where he that fills an office, shall esteem
Th' occasion it presents of doing good
More than the perquisite. Where law shall speak
Seldom or never but as wisdom prompts
An equity; not jealous more to guard
A worthless form, than to decide aright.
Where fashion shall not sanctify abuse,
Nor smooth good-breeding (supplemental grace)
With lean performance ape the work of love.
THESE, as they change, Almighty Father,
Are but the VARIED God. The rolling year
Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles!
And every sense and every heart is joy :
Then comes thy glory in the Summer months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun
Shoots full perfection thro' the swelling year:
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks,
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow whisp'ring gales.
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd,
And spreads a common feast for all that live.
In Winter awful Thou; with clouds and storms
Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd,
Majestic darkness, on the whirlwind's wing,
Riding sublime, thou bidst the world adore,
And humblest nature with thy northern blast.
Mysterious round; what skill, what force divine
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train,
Yet so delightful, mix'd with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd:
Shade unperceiv'd, so softening into shade,
And all so forming an harmonious whole;
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still.
But wandering oft, with rude unconscious gaze,
Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ;
Works in the secret deep; shoots steaming thence
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring;
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day';
Feeds ev'ry creature, hurls the tempest forth;
And as on earth this grateful change revolves,
With transport touches all the springs of life.
Nature, attend! join every living soul
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky,
In adoration join; and ardent raise
One general song; To Him, ye vocal gales,
Breathe soft, whose spirit in your freshness breathes:
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