D

An EPISTLE.

IM as the borrow'd beams of moon and fstars
To lonely, weary, wandering travellers,

Is reason to the foul: and as on high,

Thofe rolling fires discover but the sky,
Not light us here; fo reafon's glimmering ray
Was lent, not to affure our doubtful

way,

But guide us upward to a better day.
And as those nightly tapers disappear
When day's bright lord afcends our hemisphere;
So pale grows reafon at religion's fight;

So dies, and fo diffolves in fupernatural light.

Some few, whose lamp fhone brighter, have been

led

From caufe to caufe, to nature's fecret head;
And found that one first principle must be :
But what, or who, that univerfal He;

Whether fome foul incompaffing this ball
Unmade, unmov'd; yet making, moving all;
Or various atoms, interfering dance,
Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance;

Or this great all was from eternity;
Not even the Stagirite himself could fee
And Epicurus guefs'd as well as he:
As blindly grop'd they for a future state
As rafhly judg'd of providence and fate :
But leaft of all could their endeavours find
What most concern'd the good of human kind:
For happiness was never to be found;

But vanish'd from them like enchanted ground. One thought content the good to be enjoy'd: little accident destroy'd :

This every

The wifer madmen did for virtue toil:

A thorny, or at best a barren foil:

In pleasure fome their glutton fouls would steep;
But found their line too short, the well too deep;
And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep.
Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll,
Without a centre where to fix the foul:

In this wild maze their vain endeavours end:
How can the less the greater comprehend?
Or finite reafon reach Infinity?

For what could fathom God were more than He.
The Deift thinks he stands on firmer ground;

Cries uga the mighty fecret's found:

God is that spring of good; fupreme, and best We made to ferve, and in that service bleft,

If so, fome rules of worship must be given,
Distributed alike to all by heaven :
Elfe God were partial, and to fome deny'd
The means his justice should for all provide.
This general worship is to praise and pray :
One part to borrow bleffings, one to pay:
And when frail nature slides into offence,
The facrifice for crimes is penitence.
Yet fince the effects of providence, we find
Are variously difpens'd to human kind
That vice triumphs, and virtue fuffers here,
A brand that fovereign juftice cannot bear ;
Our reason prompts us to a future ftate :
The laft appeal from fortune and from fate:
Where God's all-righteous ways will be declar'd;
The bad meet punishment, the good reward.
Thus man by his own ftrength to heaven would
foar :

;

And would not be oblig❜d to God for more.
Vain wretched creature, how art thou misled
To think thy wit these god-like notions bred!
These truths are not the product of thy mind,
But dropt from heaven, and of a nobler kind.
Reveal'd religion first inform'd thy fight,
And reason faw not till faith sprung the light.

Hence all thy natural worship takes the source: "Tis revelation what thou think'st discourse.

Elfe how com'ft thou to see these truths fo clear,
Which fo obfcure to Heathens did appear?
Not Plato thefe, nor Ariftotle found:

Nor he whose wisdom oracles renown'd.
Haft thou a wit fo deep, or fo fublime,
Or canft thou lower dive, or higher climb ?
Canft thou by reafon more of godhead know
Than Plutarch, Seneca, or Cicero ?

Thofe giant wits in happier ages born,

When arms and arts did Greece and Rome adorn, Knew no fuch system: no fuch piles could raise Of natural worship, built on prayer and praise To one fole God.

Nor did remorfe to expiate fin prescribe :

But flew their fellow-creatures for a bribe:

The guiltless victim groan'd for their offence;
And cruelty and blood was penitence.

If theep and oxen could atone for men,
Ah! at how cheap a rate the rich might fin!
And great oppreffors might heaven's wrath beguile,
By offering his own creatures for a spoil!

Dar'ft thou, poor worm, offend Infinity? And must the terms of peace be given by thee?

Then thou art Juftice in the last appeal ;
Thy eafy God inftructs thee to rebel:

And like a king remote, and weak, must take What fatisfaction thou art pleas'd to make. ›

But if there be a power too juft and strong, To wink at crimes, and bear unpunish'd wrong; Look humbly upward, fee his will disclofe The forfeit firft, and then the fine impose: A mulet thy poverty could never pay, Had not eternal wisdom found the

way:

And with celeftial wealth fupply'd thy ftore:

His justice makes the fine, his mercy quits the score.
See God defcending in thy human frame;
Th' offended fuffering in th' offender's name :
All thy misdeeds to him imputed fee,

And all his righteousness devolv'd on thee.

For granting we have fin'd, and that th'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 Deift loft: remorfe for vice,
Not paid; or paid, inadequate in price;
What farther means can reafon now direct,
Or what relief from human wit expect?
That fhews us fick; and fadly are we fure
Still to be fick, till heaven reveal the cure