Time, Though In Eternity, Applied To Motion,

Now Conscience Wakes Despair That Slumber'd,-wakes The Bitter Memory Of What He Was, What Is, And What Must Be Worse.

Long Is The Way And Hard, That Out Of Hell Leads Up To Light.

Ask For This Great Deliverer Now, And Find Him Eyeless In Gaza At The Mill With Slaves.

As In An Organ From One Blast Of Wind To Many A Row Of Pipes The Soundboard Breathes.

From Man Or Angel The Great Architect Did Wisely To Conceal, And Not Divulge, His Secrets, To Be Scanned By Them Who Ought Rather Admire. Or, If They List To Try Conjecture, He His Fabric Of The Heavens Hath Left To Their Disputes - Perhaps To Move His Laughter At Their Quaint Opinions Wide Hereafter, When They Come To Model Heaven And Calculate The Stars: How They Will Wield The Mighty Frame: How Build, Unbuild, Contrive To Save Appearances; How Gird The Sphere With Centric And Eccentric Scribbled O'er, Cycle And Epicycle, Orb In Orb.