He is the Freeman whom the Truth makes Free. HE is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves beside! There's not a chain, Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared I sought Thee round, Thou, SOUGHT Thee round about, O Thou, my God! I said unto the Earth, "Speak, art thou He?" "I am not."—I inquired of creatures all In general Contained therein;-they with one voice proclaim That none amongst them challenged such a name. I asked the seas, and all the deeps below, I asked the reptiles, and whatever is Even from the shrimp to the leviathan, Inquiry ran; But in those deserts which no line can sound, I asked the air if that were He? but I, from the towering eagle to the wren, If any feathered fowl 'mongst them were such? Offended with my question, in full quire Answered-"To find thy God thou must look higher." I asked the heavens, sun, moon, and stars, but they Said, "We obey The God thou seek'st."-I asked, what eye or ear What in the world I might descry or know, With an unanimous voice all these things said, "We are not God, but we by Him were made.” I asked the world's great universal mass, Which, with a mighty and strong voice replied, "I am not He, O man! for know that I By Him on high, Was fashioned first of nothing, thus instated And swayed by Him, by whom I was created." I sought the court; but smooth-tongued flattery there Deceived each ear; In the thronged city there was selling, buying, I' the country, craft in simpleness arrayed: "Vain is my search, although my pains be great, Where my God is, there can be no deceit." A scrutiny within myself I then, "O man, what art thou?"-What more could I say Than, Dust and clay ? Frail, mortal, fading, a mere puff, a blast, Enthroned to-day, to-morrow in an urn; I asked myself what this great God might be I answered-The all-potent, solely immense, Unspeakable, inscrutable, eternal Lord over all. The only terrible, strong, just, and true, He is the well of life, for He doth give Both breath and being; He is the Creator Earth, air, and fire. Of all things that subsist Of all the heavenly host, or what earth claims, He keeps the scroll, and calls them by their names. And now, my God, by thine illuming grace, (So far forth as it may discovered be), And, though invisible and infinite, To human sight, Thou in thy mercy, justice, truth, appearest; In which to our weak senses thou comest nearest. Oh! make us apt to seek, and quick to find, Give us love, hope, and faith, in Thee to trust; Remit all our offences we intreat, Most Good, most Great! Grant that our willing, though unworthy quest, May through thy grace admit us 'mongst the blest. THOMAS HEYWOOD. IMM Emmortality. MMORTAL! ages past, yet nothing gone! Morn without eve! a race without a goal! Unshortened by progression infinite! Futurity for ever future! life Beginning still where computation ends! 'Tis the description of a Deity! 'Tis the description of the meanest slave. No more we slumber on the brink of fate; Would others envy! how would thrones adore! Sets earth at distance, casts her into shades; The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe, |