THE MECHANISM OF MAN. “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”—Psalm cxxxix. v. 14. FOND atheist ! could a giddy dance Of atoms blindly hurled Produce so regular, so fair, So harmonized a world? Why do not Lybia's driving sands, A palace here, the child of chance, Presumptuous wretch! thyself survey; That lesser fabric scan; Tell me, from whence the immortal dust, Where wast thou, when the embryo earth When stars exulting sang the morn, What fingers brace the tender nerves, The twisting fibres spin ? Who clothes in flesh the hardening bone, And weaves the silken skin ? How came the brain and beating heart, Immailed in solid bone? Who taught the wandering tides of blood To leave the vital urn, Visit each limb in purple streams, And faithfully return? How know the nerves to hear the will, The heavy limbs to wield? The tongue ten thousand tastes discern, Ten thousand accents yield? How know the lungs to heave and pant? To guard the fearful eye, or brush The delicate, the winding ear To image every sound, The eye to catch the pleasing view, Who bids the babe, new launched in life, The milky draught arrest, And with its eager fingers press The nectar-streaming breast? Who with a love too big for words A GOD! a GOD! creation shouts, He moulded in His palm the earth, "Let us make man (O voice divine) He said with strength and beauty clad, Around he turns his wandering eyes, TO THE AGED. THOU art growing old, thy head is grey, Then on the verge of life's decline, Ah! has improvement, Conscience say, How much has pass'd in airy dreams, But, though this time was spent amiss, How much was spent much worse than this? burn'd, Has not thy breast with anger Hast thou been thankful to that power, When He chastis'd thee, hast thou, then, Say, didst thou not aloud repine When Heav'n has cross'd some fond design? Or, if thy speech has been restrain❜d, Hast thou, according to thy store, Hast thou been kind to all thy friends, Adher'd to plain and simple truth? Were all thy dealings strictly just, Have those who watch'd thee never foun Hast thou been thankful for that light, Say, hast thou kept thy heart from sin? The past review'd with solemn care, TO REFLECTION. WHILE from the busy haunts of men I rove, What worlds on worlds unnumber'd round me roll Their glorious orbs, and speak their Maker's praise : How great, magnificent, sublime the whole! Then in my breast devotion's altar raise. |