And would not be obliged to God for more. Vain wretched creature, how art thou misled, To think thy wit these god-like notions bred! These truths are not the product of thy mind, But dropt from heaven, and of a nobler kind. Revealed religion first informed thy sight, And reason saw not till faith sprung the light. Hence all thy natural worship takes the source; 'Tis revelation what thou think'st discourse. Else how com'st thou to see these truths so clear, Which so obscure to heathens did appear? Not Plato these, nor Aristotle found, Nor he whose wisdom oracles renowned. Hast thou a wit so deep, or so sublime, Or canst thou lower dive, or higher climb? Canst thou by reason more of godhead know Than Plutarch, Seneca, or Cicero? Those giant wits, in happier ages born, When arms and arts did Greece and Rome adorn, Knew no such system; no such piles could raise Of natural worship, built on prayer and praise To one sole God; Nor did remorse to expiate sin prescribe, But slew their fellow-creatures for a bribe: The guiltless victim groaned for their offence, And cruelty and blood was penitence. If sheep and oxen could atone for men, Ah! at how cheap a rate the rich might sin! And great oppressors might heaven's wrath beguile, By offering his own creatures for a spoil! Darest thou, poor worm, offend Infinity? And must the terms of peace be given by thee? Then thou art justice in the last appeal; Thy easy God instructs thee to rebel; And, like a king remote and weak, must take What satisfaction thou art pleased to make. But if there be a Power too just and strong, To wink at crimes, and bear unpunished wrong; Look humbly upward, see his will disclose The forfeit first, and then the fine impose; A mulct thy poverty could never pay, Had not Eternal Wisdom found the way, And with celestial wealth supplied thy store; His justice makes the fine, his mercy quits the score. See God descending in thy human frame; The offended suffering in the offender's name; All thy misdeeds to him imputed see, And all his righteousness devolved on thee. For, granting we have sinned, and that the offence Of man is made against Omnipotence, Some price that bears proportion must be paid. And infinite with infinite be weighed. See then the Deist lost: remorse for vice Not paid, or paid inadequate in price: What farther means can reason now direct, Or what relief from human wit expect? That shews us sick; and sadly are we sure Still to be sick, till heaven reveal the cure: If then heaven's will must needs be understood, Which must, if we want cure, and heaven be good, Let all records of will revealed be shown; With scripture all in equal balance thrown, And our one sacred Book will be that one.