That Caufe, from whence all beings else arose,
Muft felf-existent be alone;
Intirely perfect, and but one;
Nor equal nor fuperior knows:
Two firfts, in reason, we can ne'er fuppofe.
If that, in falfe opinion, we allow,
That once there absolutely nothing was,
Then nothing could be now.
For, by what inftrument, or how,
Shall non-existence to exiftence país?
Thus, fomething muft from everlasting be;

Or matter, or a Deity.

If matter only uncreate we grant,

We shall volition, wit, and reason, want;
An agent infinite, and action free;
Whence does volition, whence does reafon, flow?.
How came we to reflect, defign, and know?

This from a nobler nature fprings,
Diftinct in effence from material things:
For, thoughtlefs matter cannot thought beftow,
But, if we own a God fupreme,
And all perfection 's poffible in him;
In him does boundless excellence refide,
Power to create, and providence to guide;
Unmade himself, could no beginning have,
But to all fubftance prime existence gave:
Can what he will deftroy, and what he pleafes fave.
POWER.

The undefigning hand of giddy Chance Could never fill the globes of light, So beautiful, and fo amazing bright, The lofty concave of the vaft expanse: Thefe could proceed from no lefs power than infinite. There's not one atom of this wondrous frame, Nor effence intellectual, but took Existence when the great Creator spoke,

And from the common womb of empty nothing came. Let fubftance be, he cry'd; and straight arofe Angelic, and corporeal too;

All that material nature fhews,

And what does things invifible compose,

At the fame inftant fprung, and into being flew :
Mount to the convex of the highest sphere,

Which draws a mighty circle round
Th' inferior orbs, as their capacious bound;
There millions of new miracles appear:
There dwell the eldest fons of power immense,
Who firft were to perfection wrought
First to complete existence brought,
To whom their Maker did difpenfe
The largest portions of created excellence,
Eternal now, not of neceflity,

As if they could not ceafe to be,
Or were from poffible destruction free;
But on the will of God depend:
For that which could begin, can end.
Who, when the lower worlds were made,

Without the leaft mifcarriage or defect,
By the almighty Architect,

United adoration paid,

And with extatic gratitude his laws obey'd,
III.

Philofophy of old in vain effay'd

To tell us how this mighty frame

Into fuch beaute order came;

But, by falfe reafonings, falfe foundations laid:

She labour'd hard; but ftill the more fhe wrought, The more was wilder'd in the maze of thought. Sometimes the fancy'd things to be

Coeval with the Deity,

And in the form which now they are
From everlasting ages were.
Sometimes the cafual event,

Of atoms floating in a space immenfe,
Void of all wifdom, rule, and fenfe;
But, by a lucky accident,

Jumbled into this fcheme of wondrous excellence. 'Twas an establish'd article of old,

Chief of the philofophic creed,

And does in natural productions bold;

That from mere nothing, nothing could proceed;
Material fubftance never could have rofe,
If fome exiftence had not been before,
In wisdom infinite, immenfe in power.
Whate'er is made, a maker muit fuppofe,
As an effect a caufe that could produce it thews.
Nature and art, indeed, have bounds affign'd,
And only forms to things, not being, give;
That from Omnipotence they must receive;
But the eternal felf-existent mind
Can, with a fingle Fiat, caufe to be
All that the wondrous eye furveys,
And all it cannot fee.

Nature may shape a beauteous tree,
And art a noble palace raife,
But muft net to creative power afpire;
But their God alone can claim,
As pre-existing fubftance doth require:
So, where they nothing find, can nothing framo.

WISDOM.

Matter produc'd, had ftill a chaos been:
For jarring elements engag'd,

Eternal battles would have wag'd,

And fill'd with endlefs horror the tumultuous fcene;
If wifdom infinite, for lefs

Could not the vaft prodigious embryo wield,
Or ftrength compleat to labouring Nature yield,
Had not, with actual addrefs,

Compos'd the bellowing hurry, and establish'd peace,
Whate'er this vifible creation fhews

That 's lovely, uniform, and bright,
That gilds the morning, or adorns the night,
To her its eminence and beauty owes.
By her all creatures have their ends affign'd,
Proportion'd to their nature, and their kind;
To which they fteadily advance,

Mov'd by right Reafon's high command,
Or guided by the fecret hand

Of real instinct, or imaginary chance.
Nothing but men reject her facred rules;
Who from the end of their creation fly,
And deviate into mifery; .

As if the liberty to act like fools

Were the chief caufe that Heaven made them free.

Thus the proud fceptic will not own
That Providence the world directs,
Or its affairs inspects;
But leaves it to itself alone.
How does it with almighty grandeur fuit,
To be concern'd with our impertinence;
Or interpofe his power for the defence
Of a poor mortal, or a fenfelefs brute?
Villains could never fo fuccessful prove,
And unmolested in thofe pleasures live,

Which honor, eafe, and affluence give;
While fuch as Heaven adore, and virtue love,
And most the care of providence deserve,
Opprefs'd with pain and ignominy ftarve.

What reafon can the wifeft fhew,
Why murder does unpunish'd go,

If the Most High, that 's juft and good,
Intends and governs all below,

And yet regards not the loud cries of guiltlefs blood?
But fhall we things unfearchable deny,
Because our reafon cannot tell us why
They are allow'd, or acted by the Deity?

'Tis equally above the reach of thought,

To comprehend how matter fhould be brought
From nothing, as existent be

From all eternity;

And yet that matter is, we feel and fee;
Nor is it easier to define,

What ligatures the foul and body join;

Or, how the memory does th' impreflion take
Of things, and to the mind reftores them back.
Did not th' Almighty, with immediate care,
Direct and govern this capacious all,
How foon would things into confusion fall!

Earthquakes the trembling ground would tear,
And blazing comets rule the troubled air;
Wide inundations, with refiftlefs force,
The lower provinces o'erflow,

In spite of all that human ftrength could do
To ftop the raging fea's impetuous course:
Murder and rapine every place would fill,
And finking virtue ftoop to profperous ill;
Devouring peftilence rave,

And all that part of nature which has breath
Deliver to the tyranny of death,

And hurry to the dungeons of the grave,
If watchful Providence were not concern'd to fave.
Let the brave speak, who oft has been
In dreadful fieges, and fierce battles feen,
How he's preferv'd, when bombs and bullets fly
So thick, that scarce one inch of air is free;
And though he does ten thousand fee
Fall at his feet, and in a moment die,
Unhurt retreats, or gains unhurt the victory.

Let the poor fhipwreck'd failor fhew,
To what invifible protecting power

He did his life and fafety owe,

When the loud ftorm his well-built vessel tore, And a half-shatter'd plank convey'd him to the fhore. Nay, let th' ungrateful fceptic tell us how His tender infancy protection found,

And helpless childhood was with safety crown'd, If he 'll no Providence allow; When he had nothing but his nurse's arms To guard him from innumerable fatal harms: From childhood how to youth he ran Securely, and from thence to man;

How, in the ftrength and vigour of his years, The feeble bark of life he faves, Amidst the fury of tempestuous waves, From all the dangers he forefees, or fears; Yet every hour 'twixt Scylla and Charybdis fteers, If Providence which can the feas command, Held not the rudder with a steady hand.

OMNIPRESENCE.

'I'is happy for the fons of men, that he, Who all existence out of nothing made, Supports his creatures by immediate aid: But then this all-intending Deity

Muft Omniprefent be:

For how fhall we by demonftration fhew
The Godhead is this moment here,
If he's not prefent every where,
And always fo?

What's not perceptible to fenfe, may be

Ten thousand miles remote from me,
Unless his nature is from limitation free.

In vain we for protection pray;
For benefits receiv'd high altars raife,

And offer up our hymns and praife;
In vain his anger dread, or laws obey.
An abfent god from ruin can defend

No more than can an abfent friend;
No more is capable to know
How gratefully we make returns,
When the loud mufic founds, or victim burns,
Than a poor Indian flave of Mexico.
If fo, 'tis equally in vain

The profperous fings, and wretched mourns;
He cannot hear the praife, or mitigate the pain.
But by what Being is confin'd

The Godhead we adore?

He must have equal or fuperior power.
If equal only, they each other bind,
So neither 's God, if we define him right,
For neither's infinite.

But if the other have fuperior might
Then he, we worship, can't pretend to be
Omnipotent, and free

From all restraint, and fo no Deity.
If God is limited in space; his view,
His knowledge, power, and wisdom, is fo too:
Unless we 'll own, that these perfections are
At all times prefent every where,
Yet he himself not actually there.
Which to fuppofe, that strange conclusion brings,
His effence and his attributes are different things.

He that is infinitely wife,
To alter for the worfe will never choose,
That a depravity of nature shews:

And he, in whom all true perfection lies,
Cannot by change to greater excellencies rife.

If God be mutable, which way, or how,
Shall we demonftrate, that will please him now,
Which did a thousand years ago?
And 't is impoffible to know,
What He forbids, or what He will allow.
Murder, inchantment, luft, and perjury,
Did in the foremoft rank of vices ftand,
Prohibited by an exprefs command:
But whether fuch they still remain to be,
No argument will politively prove,
Without immediate notice from above;
If the Almighty legiflator can

Be chang'd, like his inconftant fubject, man,
Uncertain thus what to perform or shun,
We all intolerable hazards run,
When an eternal ftake is to be loft or won.

JUSTICE.

Rejoice, ye fons of piety, and fing
Loud Hallelujahs to his glorious name,
Who was, and will for ever be the fame :
Your grateful incenfe to his temples bring,
That from the fmoking altars may arise
Clouds of perfumes to the imperial fkies.
His promifes ftand firm to you,

And endless joys will be beftow'd,

As fure as that there is a God,

On all who virtue choofe, and righteous paths purfue.
Nor should we more his menaces diftruft,
For while he is a Deity he must

(As infinitely good) be infinitely just.

But does it with a gracious godhead fuit,
Whole Mercy is his darling attribute,
To punish crimes that temporary be,
And thofe but trivial offences too,
Mere flips of human nature, fmall and few,

With everlasting mifery?

This fhocks the mind with deep reflections fraught, And Reafon bends beneath the ponderous thought; Crimes take their eftimate from guilt, and grow

More heinous ftill, the more they do incenfe
That God to whom all creatures owe

Profoundest reverence:

Though as to that degree they raise
The anger of the merciful Most High,
We have no ftandard to discern it by,
But the infliction he on the offender lays.
So that if endless punishment on all

Our unrepented fins must fail,
None, not the leaft, can be accounted fmall.
That God is in perfection juft, must be
Allow'd by all that own a Deity:
If fo, from equity he cannot fwerve,
Nor punish finners more than they deferve.
His will reveal'd, is both exprefs and clear ;
"Ye curfed of my Father, go
"To everlafting woe.

If everlasting means eternal here,
Duration abfolutely without end;
Against which fenfe fome zealously contend,
That when applied to pains, it only means,

They shall ten thousand ages laft:

Ten thousand, more, perhaps, when they are paft ;
But not eternal in a literal fense:

Yet own the pleasures of the just remain
So long as there's a God exifts to reign.
Though none can give a folid reason, why
The word Eternity,

To heaven and hell indifferent join'd,
Should carry fenfe of a different kind
And 't is a fad experiment to try.

GOODNESS.

But if there be one attribute divine
With greater luftre than the reft can fhine,
'Tis goodness, which we every moment fee
The godhead exercife with fuch delight,
It feems, it only feems, to be
The beft-belov'd perfection of the Deity,
And more than infinite.

Without that, he could never prove
The proper objects of our praise or love,
Were he not good, he'd be no more concern'd
To hear the wretched in affliction cry,
Or fee the guiltlefs for the guilty die,
Than Nero, when the flaming city burn'd,
And weeping Romans o'er its ruins mourn'd.
Eternal juftice then would be,
But everlasting cruelty;

Power unreftrain'd, almighty violence;
And wisdom unconfin'd, but craft immense.
'T is goodness conftitutes him that he is;
And thofe

Who will deny him this,

A god without a deity fuppofe.

When the lewd atheift blafphemously swears,
By his tremendous name

There is no god, but all's a fham;
Infipid tattle, praife, and prayers,
Virtue, pretence; and all the facred rules
Religion teaches, tricks to cully fools:

Juftice would strike th' audacions villain dead,
But mercy, boundless, faves his guilty head;
Gives him protection, and allows him bread.
Does not the finner whom no danger awes,
Without reftraint, his infamy purfue,

Rejoice, and glory in it too;

Laugh at the power divine, and ridicule his laws;
Labour in vice his rivals to xcel,

That, when he's dead, they may their pupils telf
How wittily the fool was damn'd, how hard he fell?
Yet this vile wretch in fafety lives,

Bleffings in common with the best receives; Though he is proud t' affront the God those bleffings gives.

The chearful fun his influence fpreads on all;

Has no refpect to good or evil:

And fruitful showers without diftinction fall,
Which fields with corn, with grafs the pastures, fill.
The bounteous hand of Heaven bestows
Succefs and honour many times on thofe
Who fcorn his favourites, and carefs his foes.

To this good God, whom my adventurous pen
Has dar'd to celebrate

In lofty Pindar's ftrain;
Though with unequal ftrength to bear the weight
Of fuch a ponderous theme fo infinitely great:

Το

To this good God, celeftial fpirits pay, With extacy divine, inceffant praife: While on the glories of his face they gaze, In the bright regions of eternal day.

To him each rational exiftence here, Whose breast one fpark of gratitude contains, In whom there are the leaft remains

Of piety or fear,

His tribute brings of joyful facrifice,
For pardon prays, and for protection flies:
Nay, the inanimate creation give,

By prompt obedience to his word,
Instinctive honour to their lord;

And fhame the thinking world, who in rebellion live.
With Heaven and earth then, O my foul, unite,
And the great God of both adore and blefs,
Who gives tree competence, content, and peace;
The only fountains of fincere delight:
That from the tranfitory joys below,
Thou by a happy exit may'ft remove

To thofe ineffable above;

Which from the vifion of the godhead flow,
And neither end, decreafe, nor interruption know.

ELEAZAR'S LAMENTATION

A'

OVER JERUSALEM.

Paraphrafed out of Jofephus.

LAS, Jerufalem! alas! where's now

Thy priftine glory, thy unmatch'd renown,
To which the heathen monarchies did bow?
Ah, hapless, miferable town!

Where's all thy majefty, thy beauty gone,
Thou once moft noble, celebrated place,
The joy and the delight of all the earth;
Who gav'ft to godlike princes birth,
And bred up heroes, an immortal race?
Where's now the vaft magnificence, which made
The fouls of foreigners adore

Thy wondrous brightnefs, which no more
Shall fhine, but lie in an eternal shade?
Oh mifery where 's all her mighty state,
Her fplendid train of numerous kings,

Her noble edific, noble things,

Which made her feem fo eminently great,
That barbarous princes in her gates appear'd,
And wealthy prefents, as their tribute, brought,

To court her friendship? For her ftrength they fear'd,
And all her wide protection fought.

But now, ah! now they laugh and cry,
See how her lofty buildings lie!

See how her flaming turrets gild the sky!

Ah! where's the house of the Eternal King;
The beauteous temple of the Lord of Hofts,
To whofe large treafuries our fleet did bring
The gold and jewels of remoteft coafts ?
There had the infinite Creator plac'd

His terrible, amazing name,

And with his more peculiar prefence grac'd
That heavenly fanctum, where no mortal came,
The high-priest only; he but once a year
In that divine apartment might appear:
So full of glory, and fo facred then,
But now corrupted with the heaps of flain,
Which fcatter'd round with blood, defile the mighty
fane.

Alas, Jerufalem! each spacious ftreet

Was once fo fill'd, the numerous throng Was forc'd to joftle as they pafs'd along,

And thousands did with thousands meet;

The darling then of God, and man's belov'd retreat.
In thee was the bright throne of juftice fix'd,
Juftice impartial, and vain fraud unmix'd!
She fcorn'd the beauties of fallacious gold,
Defpifing the most wealthy bribes;
But did the facred balance hold
With god-like faith to all our happy tribes.
Thy well-built streets, and every noble square,
Were once with polish'd marble laid,
And all his lofty bulwarks made
With wondrous labour, and with artful care.
Thy ponderous gates, furprizing to behold,
Were cover'd o'er with folid gold;
Whofe fplendor did fo glorious appear,

It ravish'd and amaz'd the eye;

And ftrangers paffing, to themfelves would cry,
What mighty heaps of wealth are here!
How thick the bars of mafly filver lie!
O happy people! and ftill happy be,
Celeftial city! from deftruction free,
May'st thou enjoy a long, entire prosperity!

But now, oh wretched, wretched place! Thy ftreets and palaces are spread With heaps of carcafes, and mountains of the dead, The bleeding relics of the Jewish race!

Each corner of the town, no vacant space,

But is with breathlefs bodies fill'd,

Some by the fword, and fome by famine, kill'd,
Natives and ftrangers are together laid:

Death's arrows all at random flew

Among the crowd, and no diftinction made,
But both the coward and the valiant flew.
All in one difmal ruin join'd,
(For words and peftilence are blind)
The fair, the good, the brave, no mercy find:
Thofe that from far, with joyful hafte,
Came to attend thy feftival,

Of the fame bitter poifon tafte,
And by the black, deftructive poifon fall;
For the avenging fentence pafs'd on all.
Oh! fee how the delight of human eyes
In horrid defolation lies!

See how the burning ruins flame!
Nothing now left, but a fad, empty name!
And the triumphant victor cries,
This was the fam'd Jerufalem!

The

The most obdurate creature must

Be griev'd to fee thy palaces in duft,
Thofe antient habitations of the juft:

And could the marble rocks but know
The miferies of thy fatal overthrow,

They'd ftrive to find fome fecret way unknown,
Maugre the fenfelefs nature of the ftone,
Their pity and concern to fhew:
For now, where lofty buildings flood,
Thy fons corrupted carcafes are laid:

And all by this deftruction made

One common Golgotha, one field of blood!

See! how thofe ancient men, who rul'd thy ftate,
And made thee happy, made thee great;
Who fat upon the awful chair

Of mighty Mofes, in long fcarlet clad,
The good to cherish, and chaftife the bad,
Now fit in the corrupted air,

In filent melancholy, and in fad despair!

See how their murder'd children round them lie!
Ah, difmal fcene! hark how they cry!
Woe! woe! one beam of mercy give,
Good Heaven! alas, for we would live!
Be pitiful, and fuffer us to die!

Thus they lament, thus beg for ease;
While in their feeble, aged arms they hold
The bodies of their offspring, ftiff and cold,
To guard them from the ravenous favages:
Till their increafing forrows death perfuade
(For death muft fure with pity fee
The horrid defolation he has made)
To put a period to all their mifery.

Thy wretched daughters that furvive,
Are by the heathen kept alive,

Only to gratify their luft,

And then be mix'd with common dut.

Oh! infupportable, ftupendous woe!

What shall we do? ah! whither fhall we go?

}

Down to the grave, down to thofe happy fhades below,
Where all our brave progenitors are bleft
With endless triumph and eternal reft.

But who, without a flood of tears, can fee
Thy mournful, fad catastrophe ?

Who can behold thy glorious temple lie
In afhes, and not be in pain to die?
Unhappy, dear Jerufalem! thy woes
Have rais'd my griefs to fuch a vast excess,

Their mighty weight no mortal knows,
Thought cannot comprehend, or words exprefs,
Nor can they poffibly, while I furvive, be lefs.
Good Heaven had been extremely kind,
If it had struck me dead, or ftruck me blind,
Before this curfed time, this worst of days.
Is death quite tir'd? are all his arrows spent ?
If not, why then fo many dull delays?
Quick, quick, let the obliging dart be fent!
Nay, at me only let ten thousand fly,
Whoe'er fhall wretchedly furvive; that I
May, happily, be fure to die.
Yet ftill we live, live in excefs of pain!
Our friends and relatives are flain!
Nothing but ruins round us fee,
Nothing but defolation, woe, and mifery!

Nay, while we thus, with bleeding hearts, complain,
Our enemies without prepare

Their direful engines to purfue the war ;
VOL, II,

And you may flavishly preferve your breath, Or feek for freedom in the arms of death.

Thus then refolve; nor tremble at the thought:
Can glory be too dearly bought?

Since the Almighty wifdom has decreed,
That we, and all our progeny, should bleed,
It fhall be after fuch a noble way,
Succeeding ages will with wonder view

What brave defpair compell'd us to !
No, we will ne'er furvive another day!

Bring then your wives, your children, all
That 's valuable, good or dear,
With ready hands, and place them here;
They fhall unite in one vaft funeral.

I know your courages are truly brave,
And dare do any thing but ill :
Who would an aged father fave,

That he may live in chains and be a slave,
Or for remorfelefs enemies to kill?

Let your bold hands then give the fatal blow:
For, what at any other time would be
The dire effect of rage and cruelty,

Is mercy, tenderness, and pity, now!
This then perform'd, we 'll to the battle fly,
And there, amidst our flaughter'd foes, expire.
If 't is revenge and glory you defire,

Now you may have them, if you dare but die!
Nay, more, ev'n freedom and eternity!

A PROSPECT OF DEATH.

S

INCE we can die but once, and after death
Our state no alteration knows;

But, when we have refign'd our breath,

Th' immortal fpirit goes

To endless joys, or everlasting woes:
Wife is the man who labours to fecure

That mighty and important stake;
And, by all methods, ftrive to make
His paffage fafe, and his reception fure.
Merely to die, no man of reafon fears;
For certainly we must,

As we are born, return to duft:
'Tis the laft point of many lingering years;
But whither then we go,
Whither, we fain would know;
But human understanding cannot fhew.

This makes us tremble, and creates
Strange apprehenfions in the mind;
Fills it with reftlefs doubts, and wild debates,
Concerning what we, living, cannot find.

None know what death is, but the dead;
Therefore we all, by nature, dying dread,

As a ftrange, doubtful way, we know not how to tread.

When to the margin of the grave we come, And scarce have one black, painful hour to live; 6 [E]