Canst thou bear up against this tide of glory? What is earth bosom'd in these ambient orbs, But, faith in God imposed, and press'd on man? Darest thou still litigate thy desperate cause, Spite of these numerous, awful, witnesses, And doubt the deposition of the skies? 1412 O how laborious is thy way to ruin! Laborious! 'tis impracticable quite; To sink beyond a doubt, in this debate, With all his weight of wisdom and of will, And crime flagitious, I defy a fool. Some wish they did; but no man disbelieves. God is a spirit; spirit cannot strike These gross, material organs; God by man 1420 As much is seen, as man a God can see, In these astonishing exploits of power. What order, beauty, motion, distance, size! Concertion of design, how exquisite! How complicate, in their divine police! Apt means! great ends! consent to general good!-- Each attribute of these material gods, So long (and that with specious pleas) adored, A separate conquest gains o'er rebel thought; And leads in triumph the whole mind of man. 1430 Lorenzo! this may seem harangue to thee; Such all is apt to seem, that thwarts our will. And dost thou, then, demand a simple proof Of this great master moral of the skies, Unskill'd, or disinclined, to read it there? Since 'tis the basis, and all drops without it, Take it, in one compact, unbroken chain. Such proof insists on an attentive ear; 'Twill not make one amid a mob of thoughts, 1439 And, for thy notice, struggle with the world. Retire;--the world shut out;--thy thoughts call home;-- Imagination's airy wing repress;-- Lock up thy senses;--let no passion stir;-- Wake all to Reason;--let her reign alone;-- Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth Of Nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire, As I have done; and shall inquire no more. In nature's channel, thus the questions run: "What am I? and from whence?--I nothing know, But that I am; and, since I am, conclude 1450 Something eternal: had there e'er been nought, Nought still had been: eternal there must be.-- But what eternal?--Why not human race? And Adam's ancestors without an end?-- That's hard to be conceived; since every link Of that long-chain'd succession is so frail; Can every part depend, and not the whole? Yet grant it true; new difficulties rise; I'm still quite out at sea; nor see the shore. Whence earth, and these bright orbs?--eternal too? Grant matter was eternal; still these orbs 1461 Would want some other father;--much design Is seen in all their motions, all their makes; Design implies intelligence, and art; That can't be from themselves--or man; that art Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow? And nothing greater yet allow'd than man.-- Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain,