Proof needs not here; for, whether we compare That impious, idle, superstitious ware Of rites, lustrations, offerings, which before, In various ages, various countries bore, With christian faith and virtues, we shall find None answering the great ends of human kind, But this one rule of life; that shews us best How God may be appeased, and mortals blest. Whether from length of time its worth we draw, The word is scarce more ancient than the law: Heaven's early care prescribed for every age; First, in the soul, and after, in the page. Or, whether more abstractedly we look, Or on the writers, or the written book, Whence, but from heaven, could men unskilled in arts, In several ages born, in several parts, Weave such agreeing truths? or how, or why Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie? Unasked their pains, ungrateful their advice, Starving their gain, and martyrdom their price. If on the book itself we cast our view, Concurrent heathens prove the story true: The doctrine, miracles; which must convince, For heaven in them appeals to human sense; And, though they prove not, they confirm the cause, When what is taught agrees with nature's laws. Then for the style, majestic and divine, It speaks no less than God in every line; Commanding words, whose force is still the same As the first fiat that produced our frame. All faiths, beside, or did by arms ascend, Or sense indulged has made mankind their friend; This only doctrine does our lusts oppose, Unfed by nature's soil, in which it grows; Cross to our interests, curbing sense, and sin; Oppressed without, and undermined within, It thrives through pain; it's own tormentors tires, And with a stubborn patience still aspires. To what can reason such effects assign, Transcending nature, but to laws divine? Which in that sacred volume are contained, Sufficient, clear, and for that use ordained. But stay: the Deist here will urge anew, No supernatural worship can be true; Because a general law is that alone Which must to all, and every where, be known; A style so large as not this book can claim, Nor aught that bears revealed religion's name. 'Tis said, the sound of a Messiah's birth Is gone through all the habitable earth; But still that text must be confined alone To what was then inhabited, and known: And what provision could from thence accrue To Indian souls, and worlds discovered new? In other parts it helps, that, ages past, The scriptures there were known, and were embraced, Till sin spread once again the shades of night: What's that to these who never saw the light? Of all objections this indeed is chief, To startle reason, stagger frail belief: We grant, 'tis true, that heaven from human sense Has hid the secrets paths of providence;