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VIRTUOUS AND THE WICKED
Now turn your eyes to yon sweet-smelling bow'r, Where, flush'd with all the insolence of wealth, Sits pamper'd Vice! for him th’ Arabian gale Breathes forth delicious odours; Gallia’s hills For him pour nectar from the purple vine; Nor think for these he pays the tribute due
To Heaven: of Heaven he never names the name,
Seest thou this, righteous Father! seest thou this, And wilt thou ne'er repay? Shall good and ill Be carry'd undistinguish'd to the land Where all things are forgot? Ah! no; the day Will come when Virtue from the cloud shall burst That long obscur'd her beams; when Sin shall fly Back to her native hell; there sink eclips'd In penal darkness; where nor star shall rise, Nor ever sunshine pierce th' impervious gloom.
SCEPTIC! whoe'er thou art, who say'st the soul,
Her never-ending line : tell, if thou know'st,
GOD DECLARES THE DREADFUL CONSE
QUENCE OF ADAM's SIN,
TO HIM AND HIS POSTERITY,
UNLESS SATISFACTION IS MADE TO HIS JUSTICE,
WHICH THE SON OF GOD UNDERTAKES.
MILTON. Man disobeying, Disloyal breaks his fealty, and sins Against the high supremacy of Heaven. Affecting Godhead, and so losing all, To expiate his treason hath nought left, But to destruction sacred and devote. He, with his whole posterity, must die; Die he or Justice must; unless for him Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death. Say, breavenly Pow'rs, where shall we find such love? Which of ye will be mortal to redeem Man's mortal crime, the just, th’ unjust to save? Dwells in all Heaven charity so dear?
He ask'd, but all the heav'nly choir stood mute, And silence was in Heaven: on man's behalf .
Patron or intercessor none appear'd,
Father, thy word is past, Man shall find grace; And shall not Grace find means, that finds her way, The speediest of thy winged messengers, To visit all thy creatures, and to all Comes unprevented, unimplor’d, unsought. Happy for man, so coming, he her aid Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost; Atonement for himself or offering meet, Indebted and undone, hath none to bring: Behold me then; me for him, life for life I offer; on me let thine anger fall; ' Account me man; I for his sake will leave Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee Freely put off, and for him lastly die Well pleas'd; on me let Death wreak all his rage: Under bis gloomy power I shall not long Lie vanquish’d; thou hast giv’n me to possess Life in myself for ever; by thee I live