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The wond'rous deed! or shall I call it more?
A wonder in Omnipotence itself!

A mystery no less to gods than men !

Not, thus, our infidels th' Eternal draw, A God all o'er, consummate, absolute, Full-orb'd, in his whole round of rays complete : They set at odds heav'n's jarring attributes; And, with one excellence, another wound; Maim heav'n's perfection, break its equal beams, Bid mercy triumph over-God himself, Undeify'd by their opprobrious praise: A God all mercy, is a God unjust.

Ye brainless wits! ye baptiz'd infidels!

Ye worse for mending! wash'd to fouler stains!
The ransom was paid down; the fund of heav'n,
Heav'n's inexhaustible, exhausted fund,
Amazing, and amaz'd, pour'd forth the price,
All price beyond: Tho' curious to compute,
Archangels fail'd to cast the mighty sum :
Its value vast, ungraspt by minds create,
For ever hides, and glows, in the Supreme.

And was the ransom paid? It was: And paid
(What can exalt the bounty more?) for you.
The sun beheld it-No, the shocking scene
Drove back his chariot. Midnight veil'd his face;
Not such as this; not such as nature makes;
A midnight nature shudder'd to behold;
A midnight new! a dread eclipse (without
Opposing spheres) from her Creator's frown!
Sun! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain? Or start

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At that enormous load of human guilt,

Which bow'd his blessed head; o'erwhelm'd his cross; Made groan the centre; burst earth's marble womb, With pangs, strange pangs! deliver'd of her dead? Hell howl'd; and heav'n that hour let fall a tear; Heav'n wept, that men might smile! Heav'n bled, that

man

Might never die !

And is devotion virtue? 'Tis compell'd:

What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like these?
Such contemplations mount us; and should mount
The mind still higher; nor ever glance on man,
Unraptur'd, uninflam'd.-Where roll my thoughts
To rest from wonders? Other wonders rise;
And strike where'er they roll: my soul is caught:
Heav'n's sovereign blessings, clust'ring from the Cross,
Rush on her, in a throng, and close her round,
The pris'ner of amaze!-In his blest life,
I see the path, and, in his death, the price,
And in his great ascent, the proof supreme
Of immortality.--And did he rise?

Hear, O

ye nations! hear it, O ye dead!
He rose! He rose! He burst the bars of death..

Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates!
And give the King of glory to come in.
Who is the King of glory? He who left
His throne of glory, for the pang of death:
Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates!
And give the King of glory to come in.
Who is the King of glory? He who slew

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He rose, He rose.
He burst the bars of Death,
Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates,
give the King of Glory to come in.

And

London: Pub Jan 1.1802. by Vernor & Hood, and the other Proprietors.

Page, 68.

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The rav'nous foe, that gorg'd all human race!
The king of glory, He, whose glory fill'd
Heav'n with amazement at his love to man;
And with divine complacency beheld

Pow'rs most illumin'd, wilder'd in the theme.

The theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain? Oh the burst gates! crush'd sting! demolish'd throne! Last gasp! of vanquish'd death. Shout earth and

heav'n!

This sum of good to man. Whose nature, then, Took wing, and mounted with him from the tomb! Then, then, I rose; then first humanity Triumphant past the crystal ports of light,

(Stupendous guest!) and seiz'd eternal youth, Seiz'd in our name. E'er since, 'tis blasphemous

To call man mortal.

Man's mortality

Was, then, transferr'd to death; and heav'n's duration
Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame,

This child of dust-Man, all-immortal! hail;
Hail, heav'n! all lavish of strange gifts to man!
Thine all the glory; man's the boundless bliss,
Where am I rapt by this triumphant theme,
On christian joy's exulting wing, above
Th' Aonian mount!-Alas! small cause for joy!
What if to pain immortal? If extent
Of being, to preclude a close of woe?
Where, then, my boast of immortality?
I boast it still, tho' cover'd o'er with guilt;
For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd;
'Tis guilt alone can justify his death;

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