Who is the King of Glory? HEAR, O ye nations! hear it, O ye dead! He rose! he rose! he burst the bars of death. Last gasp! of vanquish'd Death. Shout Earth This sum of good to man. Whose nature, then, Was, then, transferr'd to death; and Heaven's Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame, H This child of dust-Man, all immortal! hail; Hail, Heaven! 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, though cover'd o'er with guilt; My name in Heaven, with that inverted spear And opened there a font for all mankind, Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink, and live: This, only this, subdues the fear of death. And what is this?-Survey the wondrous cure: And at each step, let higher wonder rise! "Pardon for infinite offence! and pardon Through means that speak its value infinite! A pardon bought with blood! with blood divine! With blood divine of him I made my foe! Persisted to provoke! though woo'd, and aw'd, Blest, and chastis'd, a flagrant rebel still! A rebel, 'midst the thunders of his throne! Nor I alone! a rebel universe! My species up in arms! not one exempt! Most joy'd, for the redeem'd from deepest guilt! Its lowest round, high planted on the skies; Will give thee leave :) my praise! for ever flow; And all her spicy mountains in a flame. So dear, so due to Heaven, shall praise descend, Oh love of gold! thou meanest of amours! Their future ornaments? From courts and thrones, Return, apostate Praise! thou vagabond! soar, The soul to be. Men homage pay to men, Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow In mutual awe profound of clay to clay, Of guilt to guilt; and turn their back on thee, Great Sire! whom thrones celestial ceaseless sing: To prostrate angels, an amazing scene! O the presumption of man's awe for man! Man's Author! End! Restorer! Law! and Judge! Thine, all; day thine, and thine this gloom of night, With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds: What, night eternal, but a frown from thee? What, Heaven's meridian glory, but thy smile? And shall not praise be thine, not human praise? While Heaven's high host on hallelujahs live? 0 may I breathe no longer than I breathe My soul in praise to him, who gave my soul, And all her infinite of prospect fair, Cut through the shades of Hell, great love! by thee, O most adorable! most unador'd, Where shall that praise begin, which ne'er should end? Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause! How richly wrought with attributes divine! pomp, This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlay'd! My prostrate soul adores the present God: My voice (if tun'd); the nerve, that writes, sustains: Wrapt in his being, I resound his praise: The nameless He, whose nod is Nature's birth; And Nature's shield, the shadow of his hand; Her dissolution, his suspended smile! The great First-Last! pavilion'd high he sits, |