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Poems by Thomas Odiorne .

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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,

33

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.