"The Light of the Sun, and all the Glories of the World, on which we live, are but as weak and sickly Glimmerings, or rather Darkness it self, in Comparison of those Splendors, which encompass this Throne of God." Here Heav'ns wide Realms an endless Scene displays, And Floods of Glory thro' its Portals blaze; The Sun himself lost in superior Light, No more renews the Day, or drives away the Night: The Moon, the Stars, and Planets disappear, And Nature fix't makes one eternal Year. Here and here alone center'd in the Realms of inexpressible Glory, we justly may imagine that primogenial Globe or Sphere of all Perfections, subject to the Extreams of neither Cold nor Heat, of eternal Temperance and Duration. Here we may not irrationally suppose the Vertues of the meritorious are at last rewarded and received into the full Possession of every Happiness, and to perfect Joy. The final and immortal State ordain'd for such human Beings, as have passed this Vortex of Probation thro' all the Degrees of human Nature with the supream Applause. What vast room is here, for infinite Power and Wisdom to act in, and that so visibly takes Delight to bless all his Beings with his Bounty. And endless as his Prescience, Attributes, and Goodness, are undoubtedly all those natural and apparent Joys with which he manifests his Love to all his Creatures, a Multiplicity of Objects not to be enumerated. For wheresoever we turn our Eyes, and follow with our Reason, we may meet with Worlds of all Formations, suited no doubt to all Natures, Tastes, and Tempers, and every Class of Beings.