Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.

Drink is the feast of reason and the flow of soul.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

At present we can only reason of the divine justice from what we know of justice in man. When we are in other scenes, we may have truer and nobler ideas of it; but while we are in this life, we can only speak from the volume that is laid open before us.

How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!

Content if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view, The learn'd reflect on what before they knew.

The search of our future being is but a needless, anxious, and haste to be knowing, sooner than we can, what, without all this solicitude, we shall know a little later.