He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain Can wind around him, but he casts it off Of nature, and, though poor perhaps compar'd His are the mountains, and the vallies his, And the resplendent rivers. His t' enjoy But who, with filial confidence inspir'd, Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say-" My Father made them all!” Are they not his by a peculiar right, And by an emphasis of int'rest his, Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love That plann'd, and built, and still upholds, a world Yes-ye may fill your garners, ye that reap Stothard Del Published Feb. 1. 1798, by 2Tohnson London. Parker Sculp The Oppressor holds The Body bound, but knows not what a range The Spirit takes. No nook so narrow but he spreads them there With ease, and is at large. Th' oppressor holds His body bound; but knows not what a range His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain; And that to bind him is a vain attempt Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells. Acquaint thyself with God, if thou would'st taste His works. Admitted once to his embrace, Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before: Thine eye shall be instructed; and thine heart, Made pure, shall relish, with divine delight Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought. It yields them; or, recumbent on its brow, Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away Man views it, and admires; but rests content * |