Volume I Part 23 (2/2)

Or finite reason reach Infinity? 40 For what could fathom G.o.d were more than He.

The Deist thinks he stands on firmer ground; Cries [Greek: eureka], the mighty secret's found: G.o.d is that spring of good; supreme and best; We made to serve, and in that service blest; If so, some rules of wors.h.i.+p must be given, Distributed alike to all by Heaven: Else G.o.d were partial, and to some denied The means his justice should for all provide.

This general wors.h.i.+p is to praise and pray: 50 One part to borrow blessings, one to pay: And when frail nature slides into offence, The sacrifice for crimes is penitence.

Yet since the effects of Providence, we find, Are variously dispensed to human kind; That vice triumphs, and virtue suffers here-- A brand that sovereign justice cannot bear-- Our reason prompts us to a future state: The last appeal from fortune and from fate; Where G.o.d's all-righteous ways will be declared-- 60 The bad meet punishment, the good reward.

Thus man by his own strength to heaven would soar, And would not be obliged to G.o.d for more.

Vain, wretched creature, how art thou misled, To think thy wit these G.o.d-like notions bred!

These truths are not the product of thy mind, But dropp'd from heaven, and of a n.o.bler kind.

Reveal'd religion first inform'd thy sight, And reason saw not, till faith sprung the light.

Hence all thy natural wors.h.i.+p takes the source: 70 'Tis revelation what thou think'st discourse.

Else how com'st thou to see these truths so clear, Which so obscure to heathens did appear?

Not Plato these, nor Aristotle found: Nor he whose wisdom oracles renown'd.

Hast thou a wit so deep, or so sublime, Or canst thou lower dive, or higher climb?

Canst thou by reason more of G.o.dhead know Than Plutarch, Seneca, or Cicero?

Those giant wits, in happier ages born, 80 When arms and arts did Greece and Rome adorn, Knew no such system: no such piles could raise Of natural wors.h.i.+p, built on prayer and praise, To one sole G.o.d.

Nor did remorse to expiate sin prescribe, But slew their fellow-creatures for a bribe: The guiltless victim groan'd for their offence; And cruelty and blood was penitence.

If sheep and oxen could atone for men, Ah! at how cheap a rate the rich might sin! 90 And great oppressors might Heaven's wrath beguile, By offering His own creatures for a spoil!

Darest thou, poor worm, offend Infinity?

And must the terms of peace be given by thee?

Then thou art Justice in the last appeal; Thy easy G.o.d instructs thee to rebel: And, like a king remote, and weak, must take What satisfaction thou art pleased to make.

But if there be a Power too just and strong To wink at crimes, and bear unpunish'd wrong, 100 Look humbly upward, see His will disclose The forfeit first, and then the fine impose: A mulct thy poverty could never pay, Had not Eternal Wisdom found the way: And with celestial wealth supplied thy store: His justice makes the fine, His mercy quits the score.

See G.o.d descending in thy human frame; The Offended suffering in the offender's name: All thy misdeeds to Him imputed see, And all His righteousness devolved on thee. 110 For, granting we have sinn'd, and that the offence Of man is made against Omnipotence, Some price that bears proportion must be paid, And infinite with infinite be weigh'd.

See then the Deist lost: remorse for vice Not paid; or paid, inadequate in price: What further means can reason now direct, Or what relief from human wit expect?

That shows us sick; and sadly are we sure Still to be sick, till Heaven reveal the cure: 120 If, then, Heaven's will must needs be understood (Which must, if we want cure, and Heaven be good), Let all records of will reveal'd be shown; With Scripure all in equal balance thrown, And our one Sacred Book will be that one.

Proof needs not here, for whether we compare That impious, idle, superst.i.tious ware Of rites, l.u.s.trations, offerings, which before, In various ages, various countries bore, With Christian faith and virtues, we shall find 130 None answering the great ends of human kind, But this one rule of life, that shows us best How G.o.d may be appeased, and mortals blest.

Whether from length of time its worth we draw, The word is scarce more ancient than the law: Heaven's early care prescribed for every age; First, in the soul, and after, in the page.

Or, whether more abstractedly we look, Or on the writers, or the written book, Whence, but from Heaven, could men unskill'd in arts, 140 In several ages born, in several parts, Weave such agreeing truths? or how, or why Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie?

Unask'd their pains, ungrateful their advice, Starving their gain, and martyrdom their price.

If on the Book itself we cast our view, Concurrent heathens prove the story true: The doctrine, miracles; which must convince, For Heaven in them appeals to human sense: And though they prove not, they confirm the cause, 150 When what is taught agrees with Nature's laws.

Then for the style, majestic and divine, It speaks no less than G.o.d in every line: Commanding words; whose force is still the same As the first fiat that produced our frame.

All faiths beside, or did by arms ascend; Or, sense indulged, has made mankind their friend: This only doctrine does our l.u.s.ts oppose-- Unfed by Nature's soil, in which it grows; Cross to our interests, curbing sense, and sin; 160 Oppress'd without, and undermined within, It thrives through pain; its own tormentors tires; And with a stubborn patience still aspires.

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