XIX. , Or, The invisible World

Proud Mortal! to what narrow Bounds confin'd Are the most ample Prospects of his Mind! Impenetrable Mists and Clouds surround His Reason, and its boasted Pow'rs confound. He roves, tho' fixt to this contracted Spot, In all th' Extravagance of boundless Thought. Behind, Before, from the precarious Now, (His only Time) he turns his eager View. Behind, Eternity's unbounded Main Extends infinite Lengths beyond his Ken, Before, the same valt Ocean swells again. Our Time is but a little floating Isle; For wide Discoveries we look round and toil, In vain; the Isle lies wrapt in thickest Glooms, Where scarce a Gleam of shining Knowledge comes.

If back we turn our Eyes, we only see 'Twas some Almighty Pow'r gave us To Be; Some bright INVISIBLE, some great UNKNOWN Spoke us to Life But a few Years agone. Whate'er Thou art, Thou Dear UNKNOWN! receive The humble Praise and Love Thy Offspring aims to give: For O! Thy innate Glories must outshine Their fairest Copies in these Works of Thine.

Duration, ere that Hour, a Blank appears; We're lost in Mazes of unbounded Years. A thousand Contradictions press us round, And our unequal Faculties confound Yet thro' the vast Obscure, we see and own The Maker reign'd on His eternal Throne, Self-happy, self-sufficient, Ages unbegun: Rich in unmov'd Benev'lence, planning Schemes To vent His Goodness in o'erflowing Streams To Worlds unborn; or then perhaps employ'd In new Creations thro' the boundless Void In long Succession; Worlds beyond our Ken, Or to their native Nothing turn'd again.

Before me, What unbounded Prospects lie Wrapt in the Darkness of Futurity! I feel the Pulse of Immortality Beat, and assure me I must ever Be; But where! or how!—Here feeble Reason fails, The Gospel too but glimm'ring Rights reveals; Assures the good of Joys in Paradise, And thunders Vengeance to the Slaves of Vice; Enough to give fair Virtue winning Charms, And shock the Libertine with dire Alarms: Yet hides those Scenes, in which with humble Eye A Philosophic Mind aspires to pry.

Eternity! We daily walk upon Its slippery Brink, and yet it lies unknown; Seems an unbounded Void, a dismal Waste, With Shadows, Clouds, and Darkness overcast. Fain would we plunge into the vast Abyss, And trace ourselves these boundless Mysteries; But dark Suspicion gives a sudden Check, And strait the Soul recoils and startles back.

Some daily make th' Experiment around, But none return t' inform us what they've found: They leap impetuous from this mortal Shore, And dive; and we behold them rise no more; As tho' absorpt in the unbounded Deep, Or sunk and lost in everlasting Sleep.

Some, whose dear Mem'ries now dissolve my Mind, Once to my Heart in closest Friendship join'd, Have gone before, and left me here behind. Now in th' immortal Colonies they dwell, And people Worlds to us invisible; Hold Converse with the Tennants of the Sky, The various Nations of Eternity; The various Tribes with which Omnipotence Has peopled Regions thro' the vast Immense.

ROBINSON! Once my Father, Patron, Friend, Thy painful Labours now the Prize have gain'd. Now in a happy SOMEWHERE dwells thy Soul, Where Rivers of immortal Pleasures roll. Tho' Heav'n no doubt is thy blest Residence Yet, where, O! where, thro' the unknown Immense, Dost thou reside? how live, and act, and move? And thro' what blissful Regions dost thou rove, Transported still?—O could I soar to thee, My ROBINSON! how happy should I be! Is JESUS still the Matter of thy Song? The Theme below of thy harmonious Tongue. O yes! His Name diffuses Heav'n to thee Thro' all th' Apartments of Immensity. Thy Voice on Earth to Mortals taught His Name; Now Angels listen to the glorious Theme.

Or does thy Soul delight, as when below, T' attend as Guardian to conduct us thro' This dang'rous Wild? With Fellow-Angels wait To guide departing Saints to th' heav'nly Gate? Then in thy Turn the gen'rous Care resign, And hymn th' eternal Throne with Songs Divine? Converse with Seraphs, and in equal Lays And equal Zeal, proclaim thy Maker's Praise?

There CARNWATH shines, who won the rich Reward Ere for the sacred Service quite prepar'd; Obtain'd the Prize before he felt the Toil, And reap'd his Harvest ere he till'd the Soil. He left the Theologic Subtilties Of Schoolmen, to be taught above the Skies; Blest Change! where one bright Hour instructs him more Than all his painful Studies could before.

O! could'st, thou now thy Thoughts to me relate, As oft thou did'st, while in this mortal State; What wondrous Lessons would my Ears surprize, What unexpected Scenes before me rise, And in one shining Moment make me wise!

Or were the Curtains of the Flesh withdrawn, That Immortality might round me dawn; What Prospects wonderful, immense and new Would instantaneous crowd into my View! Beings, and Worlds, and Regions hid before, And the Great Author, whom those Worlds adore!

Well; I ere long th' Experiment must try, And launch into unknown Eternity. The mould'ring Bank that now supports my Weight, Ere long must fall, and sink beneath my Feet: Then tho' I catch and hold and strive to stay, My Doom is fixt, my Soul! thou must away; Thou must away, some distant Worlds t'explore, And see the Vanities of Earth no more; Must howl with Fiends, or with blest Angels shine, In endless Torments, or in Joys Divine. The Interval, at most, is short between The present fleeting NOW, and Worlds unseen. Forty or fifty Years, perhaps a Day, Or Hour, will break this tottering House of Clay. Alarming Thought! Almighty Grace prepare My shudd'ring Soul to fly she knows not where. All-gracious GOD! be Thou my Resting-Place; Heav'n flows exuberant from Thy smiling Face Thro' the Immensity of unknown Space. O! be Thou mine; and wheresoe'er I dwell All will be Heav'n, tho' in the Glooms of Hell.