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Thro'all the soul tho' virtue holds the rein,
Beats at the heart, and springs in ev'ry vein :
Yet ever from the clearest source have ran
Some gross allays, some tincture of the man.

But who is he ?----deep-musing----in his mind,
He seems to weigh, in reason's scales, mankind
Fix'd contemplation holds his steady eyes----
I know the * fage, the wiseft of the wise.
Bleft with all man could wish, or prince obtain,
Yet his great heart pronounc'd those blessings vain.
And lo! bright glitt'ring in his facred hands,
In miniature the glorious temple stands.
Effulgent frame ! ftupendous to behold!
Gold the strong valves, the roof of burnish'd gold.
The wand'ring ark, in that bright dome enshrin'd,
Spreads the strong light, eternal, unconfin'd!
Above th' unutterable glory plays
Presence divine ! and the full streaming rays
Pour thro' reluctant clouds intolerable blaze.

But stern oppression rends Reboam's reign ;
See the gay prince, injurious, proud and vain !
Th' imperial sceptre totters in his hand,
And proud rebellion triumps in the land.
Curs’d with corruption's ever-fruitful spring,
A beardless Senate and a haughty King.

There Afa, good and great, the sceptre bears, Justice attends his peace, success his wars :

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While virtue was his sword, and heav'n his shield,
Without controul the warrior swept the field ;
Loaded with spoils, triumphant he return'd,
And half her swarthy Sons fad Ethiopia mourn’d.
But since thy flagging piety decay'd,
And barter'd God's defence for human aid;
See their fair laurels wither on thy brow,
Nor herbs, nor healthful arts avail thee now,
Nor is heav'n chang'd, apostate prince, but Thou.

No mean attonement does this lapse require ; But see the Son, you must forgive the Sire : He, * the just prince----with ev'ry virtue bless'd, He reign'd, and goodness all the man possess’d, Around his throne fair happiness, and peace Smooth'd ev'ry brow, and smil'd in ev'ry face.

As when along the burning waste he stray'd, Where no pure streams in bubbling mazes play'd, Where drought, incumbent on the thirsty 'ground, Long since had breath'd her scorching blasts around; The + Prophet calls, th' obedient floods repair To the parch'd fields, for Josaphat was there. The new-sprung waves, in many a gurgling vein, Trickle luxurious through the fucking plain ; Fre!h honours the reviving fields adorn, And o'er the desart plenty pours her horn.




So, from the throne his influence he sheds,
And bids the virtues raise their languid heads :
Where'er he goes, attending Truth prevails,
Oppreffion flies, and Justice lifts her scales.
See, on his arm the royal eagle stand,
Great type of conquest, and supreme command ;
Th' exulting bird diftinguish'd triumph brings,
And greets the Monarch with expanded wings.
Fierce Moab's fons prevent th' impending blow,
Rush on themselves, and fall without the foe,
The pious hero vanquish'd Heaven by pray'r;
His faith an army, and his vows a war,
Thee too, Ozias, fates indulgent blest,
And thy day shone, in faireft actions dreft ;
Till that raih hand, by some blind frenzy fway'd,
Unclean, the sacred office durft invade,
Quick, o'er thy limbs the fcurfy venom ran,
And hoary filth besprinkled all the man.

Transmissive worth adorns the pious * Son,
The father's virtues with the father's throne.
Lo! there he stands : he, who the


fubdu'd Of Ammon's sons, and drench'd his sword in blood.

And doft thou, Ahaz, Judah's scourge, disgrace, With thy bafe front, the glories of thy race ?


See the vile King his iron sceptre bear.---
His only praise attends the pious * Heir ;
He, in whose foul the virtues all conspire,
The best good son, from the worst wicked fire.
And lo! in Hezekiah's golden reign,
Long-exil'd Piety returns again ;
Again in genuine purity fhe shines:
And with her presence gilds the long-neglected

Ill-starr'd does proud Affyria's impious Lord
Bid Heav'n to arms, and vaunt his dreadful sword;
His own vain threats th' insulting King o'erthrow,
But breathe new courage on the gen'rous foe.
Th'avenging Angel, by divine command,
The fiery sword full-blazing in his hand,
Leant down from Heav'n: amid the storm herode
March'd Pestilence before him; as he trod,
Pale Desolation bath'd his steps in blood.
Thick wrapt in night, thro' the proud hoft he past,
Dispensing death, and drove the furious blast;
Nor bade Destruction give her revels o'er,
Till the gorg'd sword was drunk with human gore.
But what avails thee, pious Prince, in vain
Thy sceptre rescu'd, and th’Assyrian lain?
Ev'n now the soul maintains her latest strife,
And death's chill grasp congeals the fount of life.

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Yet, see, kind Heav'n renews thy brittle thread,
And rolls full fifteen summers o'er thy head;
Lo! the receding sun repeats his way, .
And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day.
Tho'nature her inverted course forego,
The day forget to rest, the time to flow,
Yet shall Jehovah's servants stand secure,
His mercy fix’d, eternal shall endure;
On them her ever-healing rays shall shine ;
More mild and bright, and sure, O fun! than thine.

At length the long-expected Prince behold,
The last good King; in ancient days foretold,
When Bethel's altar spoke his future fame,
Rent to it's base, at good Josiah's name.
Bleft, happy prince! o'er whose lamented urn,
In plaintive song, all Judah's daughters mourn;
For whom sad Sion's softeit sorrow flows,
And Jeremiah pours his sweet melodious woes.

But now fall’n Sion, once the fair and great,
Sits deep in duft, abandon'd, dcfolate;
Bleeds her fad heart, and ever stream her eyes,
And anguish tears her, with convulsive fighs.
The mournful captive spreads her hands in vain,
Her hands, that rankle with the servile chain ;
Till he, * Great Chief! in Heav'n's appointed time,
Leads back her children, to their native clime.


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