University of Virginia Library

2. PART II.

I.

Thus, in the dispensation that exists,
There is a prospect in the future world,
As each one's merit—Hold! it is not so!
Beneath the throne eternal duty lies,
Reward by promise only, not of right.
What merit can a creature claim? or who,
At best, can raise a balance on his side?
Imagine one that never sinn'd, and what
Can he demand? Nought;—duty still comes short;
Heaven's holiest seraph can perform no more.—
In creatures, no inherent merit lies;
The utmost of their best performances,
Pays but the int'rest of the debt they owe,
Whose principal they never can discharge.

II.

Hence, as the law abatement grants to none,
Nor for the least offence excuse accepts;
And as no culprit can his soul redeem,
Nor sinless angel expiation make;
Soon as the great transgression had occurr'd,
There was a pause in heaven for half an hour.
Divinity itself was mov'd, and thousand hosts,
Like statues on a gaze, with pond'ring eyes
Tow'rds earth, stood leaning, horror-struck and griev'd.
Beyond the power of finite arm to save,
And to created minds no way reveal'd,
By which a fit atonement could be made;
All, all as 'twere, seem'd lost, and Wisdom's self
In her great purpose put upon defeat.

III.

IV.

To whom thus Radiel, fond of argument:
That which was best to be permitted, best
It was it should have taken place; of course,
Those means were best, which should its certainty
Secure. But man may plead, that moral ill
Was not intended in the scheme divine;
It therefore must have crept in unawares;
Or, if predestin'd, must excuse from blame;
And so Eternal Justice were impeach'd
In dooming him to death; and thence infer,
That to be just, were not to be divine;
Or, to inflict a punishment deserv'd,
Were inconsistent with benev'lent views.

V.

With sapient words, Ithuriel thus rejoin'd:
Man, implicated in the guilt himself,
May thus on grounds of selfishness pretend,
And strive against conviction to believe;
But conscience, ever intent upon reproof,
Will from such gross conceptions grant no peace.
As to man's views of moral right and wrong,
'Twere proper to suppose him prone to err;
Especially while partial reason, dim,
Takes its own twilight as the test of truth.
But he who dwells in light invisible,
In whom is all perfection, ever reigns
Benevolent as wise; and he as well
Might be unlovely, as unjust. Indeed,
So bright, so glorious is his character,
And so dispos'd is he, and able too,
To manage for the best his vast concerns,
Evil is made subservient to best ends;
And from the fall a greater good may come,
Than had man still remain'd in innocence.

VI.

But how predestination can subsist,
Without abatement of the moral bond,
And sentence on the guilty be enforc'd,
Consistently with rectitude divine,
Requires no great exertion to conceive,
Still leaving man accountable and free.
But how strict justice can with punishment
Of sin dispense, and keep a level beam
The while, is more than thought can comprehend.
Nor can invention figure to itself
The bulk of merit, which should poise the scale.
It therefore seems impossible, that man
Should be restor'd; unless in Deity
Some undiscover'd attribute exist,
Henceforth to be disclos'd; as when, sublime
His justice was display'd in casting down,
Headlong, th' apostate host that sinn'd in heaven.
But what that attribute can be, it were
As difficult for reason to suggest,
As 'twere for one, not having ears, to hear;
Or, void of eyes, to picture to his ken,
The genial hue of nature. Question'd, he
Might speak of its similitude, and say,
'Tis like the soft smooth down, or like the smell
Of savoury odours. But the light divine
Must pour upon our darkling view its ray,
Before we can explain, or e'en conceive,
Of what that attribute consists; for though
Fancy, from known materials, may construct
New combinations, 'tis beyond her power
To figure to herself a thing distinct,
Of which no likeness nature has display'd.

VII.

He ceas'd; when Radiel his assent express'd,
But 'twere most glorious in his view, he said,
Were Justice so appeas'd, that man at last,
Should she triumphant o'er the powers malign,
And occupy th' abodes from whence they fell;
Now a drear waste of solitary realms.
Prophetic of divine good news to earth,
And looking tow'rds the glory, lo! he cry'd,
I seem to see th' unfolding Deity!

VIII.

He spoke. In robes of glorious excellence,
Sweet Mercy from the secret place advanc'd,
And Justice took her hand. In shouts sublime,
Rapt joy resounded through the spacious hall,
And distant regions rung with festive sound.
Silence ensu'd; when, not in thunder's roar,
But in a still small voice, Jehovah spake.

IX.

To all ye seraphim and loyal hosts,
Who stand adoring round the throne supreme,
Be it well known: That in the secret place
Of love divine, a sacred fount is op'd,
Of living waters, in behalf of man,
In view of which, justice forbears to frown.
But still there is a threat i' the covenant:—
The soul that does not drink assur'dly dies.
Th' archangel Gabriel, be it known to all,
Is my commission'd messenger to earth,
To offer terms of peace, acceptible,
That whosoe'er repents, and turns to God,
Shall taste of these ethereal streams, and live.
Against the wilful, penal law remains,
Its rigour unabated—endless wo,
Inexorable—expiation made,
Not for the least offence, (as God is just,)
Nor pardon possible, but on such terms.
Angels! ye all are min'string spirits now—
Man is entitled to benev'lent love.
Go render service to the future heirs
Of bliss immortal. Thus Jehovah spake.

X.

Instant a song divine, too exquisite
For human ears, (had human ears been there,)
Serenely spread along the expanse of heaven;
While, on the cloud around the holy place,
In tok'n of peace, a radiant bow appear'd,
The joy of angels, glorious to the throne!

XI.

In looks benign, with smiles ineffable,
Mercy, descending, now commenc'd her work
Of love on earth. Nor could the character,
Divine, have been to finite view display'd,
Save from the circumstance of moral ill.
Nor could soft Pity, bending o'er distress,
Have e'er enjoy'd her sympathising spell,
Or into sorrow's wound her balsam pour'd.
So long as man had free from guilt remain'd,
He never had rejoic'd in Mercy's smile.
Mercy descends on none but criminals;
And, but for sin and penalty incurr'd,
Important attributes, develop'd now
In character, were dormant and unknown.
The human soul, in its primeval state,
Like a young bud sequester'd from the sun,
Shone not, in all its lovely innocence,
As shines the glory of the soul redeem'd.

XII.

But why, secreted in th' Eternal Mind,
The riches of redeeming grace so long,
While angels who had trespass'd were, devoid
Of hope, cast off? However that may seem
To those who stood; to us, of feebler views,
'Tis most mysterious. It may be, that man,
A species, a whole order in the chain
Of being, were less proper to be lost,
And hence (though not of title or desert)
An object of more fit regard. Besides,
The woman's Seed to bruise the serpent's head,
Was, in the view of Justice infinite,
An indispensable in point of law,
To make amends. Aught else could not avail.
'Twas the sole mean by which salvation were
In nature possible. In vision saw
The patriarchs this, enraptur'd with desire.
Th' expected triumph of Messiah's reign,
By types prefigur'd, and by seers presag'd,
Cheer'd the glad nations to the midst of years;
When, lo! the scatter'd rays of prophesy,
Converging to the compass of a star,
Stood resting o'er the Babe of Bethlehem!
God was made manifest that man might live.

XIII.

O! 'twas a gladly voice, by Heaven inspir'd,
Which angels with triumphant rapture swell'd,
Chanting the birth of that auspicious Child,
Who, growing into years, eternal truth
Unfolded, and the boding gloom dispell'd,
Which had for ages held the world in doubt
Of a hereafter of the human soul;
When man, elated with a hope sublime,
Expanded into consequence, and joy'd
In his existence! Lo! a star salutes
The wilder'd traveller! Behold the sun,
After a long dull train of low'ring days,
Comes in the glory of unclouded morn!
So beam'd the Gospel light upon the world;
And Nature's self in fairer splendour shone,
The more seem'd Wisdom to disclose her plan
For man's redemption. Everlasting life,
Rais'd from the slumb'ring relics of the tomb,
Was an event, in Faith's illumin'd eye,
Replete with views ineffably divine.

XIV.

Time, all eventful time, that, like a blast
Upon the wilderness, delights in waste,
And, in the track of his o'erwhelming wheels,
Leaves pompous cities, empires, governments,
In ruins, open'd on the searching view
Of new-born sages, new accomplishments
In that eternal plan, which has o'erturn'd
The nations, and was still to overturn,
Till the last trumpet should have spent its blast.
Yet, in those years, was wisdom set at nought,
Faith in the God contemptuously refus'd,
And down through ages bold blasphemers scoff'd.

XV.

But in an era, when proud learning vaunts,
And philosophic Reason condescends
The laws to mend of Wisdom infinite,
And, like a fallen angel rob'd in light,
Deprives of its divinity the Cross,
And blots out half the pen of truth has taught,
What bard can please who sings the plan divine?

XVI.

Alas! conjecture on conjecture void
Of wisdom! What about a future state
Can man, aside from Revelation, know?
Reason, not lumin'd by a ray from Heaven,
Is like a moon that never saw the sun.
Dark, it no borrow'd light reflects, to cheer
The soul of the benighted traveller.

XVII.

He, self-bewilder'd mortal! who his view
Turns from meridian splendour, and, misled
By the pale meteor of the night through bogs
And upland mazes, meets some fatal brink,
Grasps at a phantom to prevent his fall:
But down, inevitably down he goes.
Through vain philosophy and boasted light,
A broader passage, and an easier way,
Than that which Inspiration has reveal'd,
He feigns to have discover'd, and, in pride
Of self-importance, his own reason makes
The test and standard of eternal right.

XVIII.

Presumptuous! let him pass the confines first,
His theory with facts compare—and what?
Confounded and undone. Deluded man!
So vast thy stretch of reason, thou o'erlook'st
Reason's first hint; that a defect in God,
Or in the system of his government,
Or in the sacred page by Truth inspir'd,
Is quite impossible. Behold, the word
Of holy Prophets and Apostles, casts
Blindness on human wisdom black as night;
And human Reason, heedless of that word,
Groping in darkness, stumbles on to death!

XIX.

Still in each breast a monitor presides,
To warn, reprove, although she toil in vain;
For so perverse and blinded is the will,
She makes but here and there a proselyte.
Her counsels, 'tis confess'd, are just, wise, good;
Her arguments conclusive; yet, alas!
There's something so beset, so prone in wrong,
She to free-thinkers preaches as to stones,
Their hearts so cas'd in prejudice. But some
Her admonitions and reproofs esteem,
Above all estimate; as seeming done
In kindness, mixing in the cup of life
Peace, void of which there's doubt in what may come.

XX.

But, in relation to our thoughts of men,
“This I hold firm:” That hearts sincere and pure
Deserve our charity, though error them mislead;
For goodness not in knowledge lies—the wise
Themselves do err. But, 'gainst the contrite soul,
No writ of error lies in Heaven's high court,
Howe'er the head may have decided wrong
As to the minor precepts of the law.
Here, then, I make up judgment. But, one day,
Should it appear like bigotry in me,
To place the test of virtue in the heart;
And should I, now grown grey in error, find,
That in the form of goodness lies the power;
I must confess it an essential point,
And freely will I change my sentiments.
But that can never while my reason lasts.
No! never shall that prostituted day
Lower o'er my head, when I shall have believ'd
That true religion lies in form alone,
However fair; or lure me to embrace
That latitudinarian charity,
Which gives to infidels the dexter hand
Of fellowship, however bland they seem
As social friends, howe'er correct their lives!
A bare morality of deed overt,
(As to the current usage of the phrase,)
Is goodness in the negative at best;
A cloak for the transgression of the soul;
A plaster to disguise, not heal, the wound.
True, it is fair in sight of human view,
Whether to gain respect, or shun the law;
But faulted in the chancery of Heaven.
As to the nature of the thing itself,
Some call it habit, education, love
Of order,—any thing conformable
To the mere fashion of good character.
But one should put his soul into his deeds;
Nor badly neither, but in love to man.
High Heaven takes cognizance of secret thoughts;
Heart-acts alone determine good or ill;
Heart-acts alone are premium'd in the skies;
And they decide the future destiny.

XXI.

But to return: From what internal sense
Makes obvious, as in this assay discuss'd,
Join'd with what lumin'd reason dictates, one
May verily conceive, how human deeds
Are render'd so subservient to events,
As not to violate the rights of will,
Nor in the least excuse from praise or blame.
If in the heart all moral evil lies—
Suppose man's acts inevitably fix'd;—
What then? From the bare manner of the deed,
What is inferr'd? or what does it decide?
Does it e'er change the nature of the will,
Which, in whatever manner it might act,
Were still the same in essence, good or bad?
That should to common sense appear absurd.
Therefore, to cast upon the sacred truth
Of holy Inspiration, as to the decrees
Eternal, such opprobrious epithets,
As some have utter'd in excuse for guilt—
Does it not savour of much ignorance?
Or of a heart replete with partial views?

XXII.

Man a probationer is put to proof;
And, like a tree that takes deep root and soars
Amidst the buffeting of elements and shifts
Of seasons, best his loftier powers displays,
When most beset by perils all around;
And gains, by Heaven-refreshing beams betimes,
A growth far nobler than if innocent,
With half his talents never brought to use.
The knowledge of both good and evil gives
By contrast good a richer zest, as pain
Serves, when abated, to enhance delight.
Suffering itself to virtuous ends inures,
And short privation makes enjoyment sweet.
Health after sickness, pleasure after pain,
Hope from despair, and holy joys for gifts
Receiv'd, attended with exalted views
Of the divine perfections, how could man
Have known, but from the fall which gave them birth?
Or how the soul her destiny attain,
While here inthrall'd within this house of clay?
But, having gain'd her freedom through the grave,
Rising from ruins she ascends renew'd.
Yes! all enraptur'd, lo, she bears away,
The moral world laid open to her view!

XXIII.

Thus, only, man through imperfection gains
Perfection, try'd in dreadful scenes. To bring
Good out of ill is God's prerogative;
To manifest himself the final cause,
Wherefore to human lot such woes befell.