As in a Clock, 'tis hinder'd Force doth bring The Wheels to order'd Motion by a Spring; Which order'd Motion guides a steddy Hand In useful sort at Figures just to stand; Which, were it not by Counter-ballance staid, The Fabrick quickly would aside be laid As wholly useless: So a Might too Great But well proportion'd makes the World compleat. Power well-bounded is more Great in Might Than if let loose 'twere wholly Infinite. He could have made an endless Sea by this, But then it had not been a Sea of Bliss; A Sea that's bounded in a finite shore Is better far because it is no more. Should Waters endlessly exceed the Skies They'd drown the World, and all whate'er we prize. Had the bright Sun been Infinite its Flame Had burnt the World, and quite consumed the same. That Flame would yield no splendour to the Sight, 'Twould be but Darkness though 'twere Infinite. One Star made Infinite would all exclude, An Earth made Infinite could ne'er be view'd. But all being bounded for each other's sake, He, bounding all, did all most useful make; And which is best, in Profit and Delight Though not in Bulk, he made all Infinite! He, in his Wisdom, did their use extend By all, to all the World from End to End. In all Things all Things service do to all; And thus a Sand is Endless, though most small, And every Thing is truly Infinite In its Relation deep and exquisite. [From p. 383 in Chapter XXV On Meekness] Were all the World a Paradise of Ease 'Twere easie then to live in Peace. Were all men Wise, Divine, and Innocent, Just, Holy, Peaceful and Content, Kind, Loving, True and alwaies Good As in the Golden-Age they stood; 'Twere easie then to live In all Delight and Glory, full of Love, Blest as the Angels are above. But we such Principles must now attain (If we true blessedness would gain) As those are which will help to make us reign Over Disorders, Injuries, Ingratitudes, Calamities, Affronts, Oppressions, Slanders, Wrongs, Lies, Angers, bitter Tongues; The reach of Malice must surmount, and quell The very Rage and Power of Hell. [From pp. 394-9] OF MEEKNESS I Mankind is sick, the World distemper'd lies Opprest with Sins and Miseries. Their Sins are Woes; a long corrupted Train Of Poyson, drawn from Adam's vein, Stains all his seed, and all his Kin Are one Disease of Life within; They all torment themselves! The World's one Bedlam, or a greater Cave Of Mad-men that do alwaies rave. II