ng,
I send it through the boundless vault of stars! 427
The stars, though rich, what dross their gold to thee,
Great, good, wise, wonderful, eternal King!
If to those conscious stars thy throne around,
Praise ever-pouring, and imbibing bliss;
And ask their strain; they want it, more they want,
Poor their abundance, humble their sublime, 433
Languid their energy, their ardour cold,
Indebted still, their highest rapture burns;
Short of its mark, defective, though divine.
Still more--this theme is man's, and man's alone;
Their vast appointments reach it not: they see
On earth a bounty not indulged on high;
And downward look for heaven's superior praise! 440
First-born of ether! high in fields of light!
View man, to see the glory of your God!
Could angels envy, they had envied here;
And some did envy; and the rest, though gods,
Yet still gods unredeem'd (their triumphs man,
Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies),
They less would feel, though more adorn, my theme.
They sung creation (for in that they shared);
How rose in melody, that child of love!
Creation's great superior, man! is thine; 450
Thine is redemption; they just gave the key:
'Tis thine to raise, and eternize, the song;
Though human, yet divine; for should not this
Raise man o'er man, and kindle seraphs here?
Redemption! 'twas creation more sublime;
Redemption! 'twas the labour of the skies;
Far more than labour--it was death in heaven.
A truth so strange! 'twere bold to think it true;
If not far bolder still to disbelieve. 459
Here pause, and ponder--Was there death in heaven?
What then on earth? on earth, which struck the blow?
Who struck it? Who?--O how is man enlarged, 462
Seen through this medium! How the pigmy towers!
How counterpoised his origin from dust!
How counterpoised to dust his sad return!
How voided his vast distance from the skies!
How near he presses on the seraph's wing!
Which is the seraph? Which the born of clay?
How this demonstrates, through the thickest cloud
Of guilt, and clay condensed, the son of heaven! 470
The double son; the made, and the re-made!
And shall heaven's double property be lost?
Man's double madness only can destroy.
To man the bleeding cross has promised