 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
163
A Reflection upon my own Formation.
When I reflect upon this mortal Frame,
And the Original, from whence I came;
In this fine Form, what various Organs play,
Where Crimson Streams in Purple Channels play:
Where Springs of Life in ev'ry Part abound,
And in a Million none are useless found:
With Admiration struck, that Pow'r I praise,
Which out of Nothing could such Wonders raise:
None but a Deity could Being give,
Build up the Man, and bid the Creature live.
And the Original, from whence I came;
In this fine Form, what various Organs play,
Where Crimson Streams in Purple Channels play:
Where Springs of Life in ev'ry Part abound,
And in a Million none are useless found:
With Admiration struck, that Pow'r I praise,
Which out of Nothing could such Wonders raise:
None but a Deity could Being give,
Build up the Man, and bid the Creature live.
Great is the Wisdom, but the Love is more,
Which in the finish'd Fabrick we adore:
The Work, for noble Purposes design'd,
His Breath enrich'd with an Immortal Mind;
A Substance, form'd for a divine Abode,
T' enjoy the Smiles and Converse of a God.
Which in the finish'd Fabrick we adore:
164
His Breath enrich'd with an Immortal Mind;
A Substance, form'd for a divine Abode,
T' enjoy the Smiles and Converse of a God.
Then, oh! my Soul! with noble Pride disdain,
Whatever may thy native Lustre stain:
Thy blest Redeemer's just Commands obey,
And grateful Homage to thy Maker pay.
Whatever may thy native Lustre stain:
Thy blest Redeemer's just Commands obey,
And grateful Homage to thy Maker pay.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |