Who wade this miry vale, and climb with pain, And slippery step, the bottom of the steep. Angels their failings, mortals have their praise; While here, of corps ethereal, such enroll'd, 540 And summon'd to the glorious standard soon, Which flames eternal crimson through the skies. Nor are our brothers thoughtless of their kin, Yet absent; but not absent from their love. Michael has fought our battles; Raphael sung Our triumphs; Gabriel on our errands flown, Sent by the Sovereign: and are these, O Man! Thy friends, thy warm allies? and thou (shame burn The cheek to cinder!) rival to the brute? Religion's all. Descending from the skies 550 To wretched man, the goddess, in her left, Holds out this world, and, in her right, the next; Religion! the sole voucher man is man; Supporter sole of man above himself; Even in this night of frailty, change, and death, She gives the soul a soul that acts a god. Religion! Providence! an After-state! Here is firm footing; here is solid rock! This can support us; all is sea besides; Sinks under us; bestorms, and then devours. 560 His hand the good man fastens on the skies, And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl. As when a wretch, from thick polluted air, 563 Darkness, and stench, and suffocating damps, And dungeon horrors, by kind fate, discharged, Climbs some fair eminence, where ether pure Surrounds him, and Elysian prospects rise, His heart exults, his spirits cast their load; As if new-born, he triumphs in the change; So joys the soul, when, from inglorious aims, And sordid sweets, from feculence and froth 571 Of ties terrestrial, set at large, she mounts To reason's region, her own element, Breathes hopes immortal, and affects the skies. Religion! thou the soul of happiness; And, groaning Calvary, of thee! there shine The noblest truths; there strongest motives sting; There sacred violence assaults the soul; There, nothing but compulsion is forborne. Can love allure us? or can terror awe? 580 He weeps!--the falling drop puts out the sun; He sighs--the sigh earth's deep foundation shakes. If in his love so terrible, what then His wrath inflamed? his tenderness on fire? Like soft, smooth oil, outblazing other fires? Can prayer, can praise avert it?--Thou, my all! My theme! my inspiration! and my crown! My strength in age! my rise in low estate! My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth!--my world! My light in darkness! and my life in death! 590 My boast through time! bliss through eternity! Eternity, too short to speak thy praise! Or fathom thy profound of love to man! To man of men the meanest, even to me; My sacrifice! my God!--what things are these! What then art Thou? by what name shall I call thee?--