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And in myself am loft! at Home a Stranger, Thought wanders up and down, surpriz'd, aghaft,
And wondering at her own : How Reason reels! I what a Miracle tò Man is Man,
Triumphantly distress'd! what Joy, what Dread!
Alternately transported, and alarm’d!
What can preserve my Life ? or what destroy ?
An Angel's Arm can't snatch me from the Grave;
Legions of Angels can't confine me There.
Thou great Arbiter of Life and Death!
Nature's immortal, immaterial Sun! Whose all prolific Beam late call's me forth From Darkness, teeming Darkness, where I lay The m's inferior, and in Rank, beneath The Duft I tread on, high to bear my To drink the Spirit of the golden Day, And triumph in Existence; and could'st know No Motive but my Bliss ; and hast ordain'd A Rise in Blessing! with the Patriarch's Joy, Thy Call I follow to the Land unknown; I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust; Or Life, or Death, is equal; neither weighs, All Weight in this-0 let me live to Thee!
The Darkness of Providence. ADDISON.
HE Ways of Heaven are dark and intricate,
Puzzled in Mazes, and perplex'd with
Our Understanding traces them in vain,
Loft and bewilder'd in the fruitless Search ;
Nor fees with how much Art the Windings run,
Nor where the regular Confusion ends.
Cato's Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul.
ADDISON. T must be fo-Plato, thou reason'st well!
Else whence this pleasing Hope, this fond Defire, This Longing after Immortality ? Or whence this secret Dread, and inward Horror, Of falling into Nought? why shrinks the Soul Back on herself, and startles at Destruction? 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us, 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an Hereafter, And intimates Eternity to Man. Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful Thought! Through what Variety of untry'd Being, Through what new Scenes and Changes must we pass! The wide, th' unbounded Prospect lies before me; But Shadows, Clouds, and Darkness rest upon
it. Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us, (And that there is all Nature cries aloud Through all her Works) he must delight in Virtue ; And that which he delights in must be happy.
S there no Hope ? the sick Man said,
And took his Leave with Signs of Sorrow,
Despairing of his Fee To-morrow.
When thus the Man, with gasping Breath, I feel the chilling Wound of Death,
Since I must bid this World adieu,
Let me my former Life review.
I grant, my Bargains well were made,
But all Men over-reach in Trade;
'Tis Self-Defence in each Profession;
Sure Self-Defence is no Transgression.
The little Portion in my Hands,
By good Security on Lands,
Is well increas'd. If unawares,
My Justice to myself and Heirs,
Hath let my Debtor rot in Jail,
For Want of good fufficient Bail ;
If I by Writ, or Bond, or Deed,
Reduc'd a Family to Need,
My Will hath made the World Amends ;
My Hope on Charity depends,
When I am number'd with the Dead,
And all my pious Gifts are read,
By Heaven and Earth 'twill then be known,
My Charities were amply shown.
An Angel came. Ah Friend! he cry'd,
No more in flatt'ring Hope confide.
Can thy good Deeds in former Times
Outweigh the Balance of thy Crimes ?
What Widow or what Orphan prays
To crown thy Life with Length of Days ?
A pious Action's in thy Power,
Embrace with Joy the happy Hour;
Now, while you draw the vital Air,
Prove your Intention is fincere :
This Inftant give an Hundred Pound;
Your Neighbours want, and you abound.
But why such Haste, the fick Man whines,
Who knows as yet what Heaven designs ?
Perhaps I may recover still:
That Sum and more are in my
Fool, says the Vifion, now 'tis plain,
Your Life, your Soul, your Heav'n was
From every Side, with all your Might,
You scrap'd, and scrap'd beyond your Right,
And after Death would fain atone,
By giving what is not your own.
While there is Life, there's Hope, he cry'd : Then why such Hafte ? so groan'd and dy'd.
The HARE and
RIENDSHIP, like Love, is but a Name,
Unless to one you stint the Flame,
The Child, whom many Fathers share;
Hath seldom known a Father's Care;
'Tis thus in Friendships ; who depend
On many, rarely find a Friend,
A Hare, who, in a civil Way,
Complied with every Thing, like Gay,
Was known by all the bestial Train,
Who haunt the Wood, or graze the Plain ;
Her Care was, never to offend,
And ev'ry Creature was her Friend.
As forth she went at early Dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled Lawn,
Behind the hears the Hunter's Cries,
And from the deep-mouth'd Thunder fies;
She starts, the stops, the pants for Breath,
She hears the near Advance of Death,
She doubles to mislead the Hound,
And measures back her mazy Round;
'Till, fainting in the public Way,
Half-dead with Fear the gasping lay.
What Transport in her Bofom grew,
When first the Horse appear’d in View!
Let me, says she, your Back afcend,
And owe my Safety to a Friend ;
You know my Feet betray my Flight
To Friendship ev'ry Burden's light.
The Horse reply'd, poor honest Puss,
It grieves my Heart to see thee thus;
Be comforted, Relief is near;
For all your Friends are in the Rear.
She next the stately Bull implor'd;
And thus reply'd the mighty Lord :
Since ev'ry Beast alive can tell
That I sincerely with you well,
I may, without Offence, pretend
To take the Freedom of a Friend;
Love calls me hence : a fav’rite Cow
Expects me near yon Barley Mow;
And when a Lady's in the Case,
You know all other Things give Place.
To leave you thus might seem unkind;
But see the Goat is just behind.