Classic Poem

Hail, Source of happiness! whate'er thy name,
Thro' ages' vast succession still the same;
For ever blest, in giving others bliss
No boon thou askest of thy reptile race;
Their virtues please thee, and their crimes offend,
Not as a governor, but as a friend:
What can our goodness profit thee? and say,
Can guilt's black dye thy happiness allay?
Raise vengeful passions in thy heav'nly mind,
Passions that ev'n disgrace the human kind?
No: are we wise? the wisdom is our own;
And folly's mis'ries wait on fools alone:
We live and breathe by thy divine command,
Our life, our breath, in thy holy hand;
But something still is ours, and only ours,
A moral nature, grac'd with moral pow'rs,
Thy perfect gift, unlimited and free,
Without reserve of service, or of fee.
Poor were the gift, if given but to bind
In everlasting setters all mankind!
To bind us o'er to debts we ne'er could pay,
And for our torment cheat us into day!
Not thus thou dealest, sure it is not thus,
Father beneficent! with all, with us!
Thou form'd'st our souls susceptible of bliss,
In spite of circumstance, of time, and place;
A bliss internal, ev'ry way our own,
Which none can forfeit, is deny'd to none;
For ever forfeit; for our freedom's such,
'Tis, scorn'd or courted, still within our reach;
And if we sink to misery and woe,
Thou neither made us, nor decreed us so;
Perfection in a creature cannot dwell,
Some men have fallen, and some yet may fall;
Many the baits that tempt our steps astray,
From reason's dictates, and from wisdom's way.
But, hail, ETERNAL ESSENCE! ever hail!
Tho' vice now triumph, passion now prevail;
Tho' all should err, yet all are sure to find
In thee a father! and in thee a friend!
A friend, to overlook the mortal part,
The crimes, the follies, foreign to the heart.