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Lettered inside image: "73 | With joy--with grief, that healing hand I see; | Ah! too conspicuous! it is fix'd on high! | On high?--what means my phrensy? I blaspheme; | Alas! how low! how far beneath the skies-- | The skies it form'd! and now it bleeds for me: | But bleeds the balm I want?--yet still it bleeds. | *Draw the dire steel?--ah no!--the dreadful blessing | What heart or can sustain, or dares forego? | There hangs all human hope!!! that nail supports | The falling universe!!! that gone, we drop! | Horror receives us, and the dismal wish | Creation had been smother'd in her birth: | Darkness his curtain! and his bed the dust! | When stars and sun are dust beneath his throne: | In heaven itself can such indulgence dwell? | O what a groan was there! a groan not his, | HE seized our dreadful right; the load sustain'd; | And heaved the mountain from a guilty world: | A thousand worlds so bought were bought too dear. | Sensations new, in angels bosoms rise; | Suspend their song, and make a pause in bliss. | O for their song to reach my lofty theme! | Inspire me, night! with all thy tuneful spheres inspire, | Whilst I with seraphs share seraphic themes, | And shew to men the dignity of man; | Lest I blaspheme my subject with my song. | Shall pagan pages glow celestial flame, | And christian languish? on our hearts, not heads, | Falls the foul infamy: my heart! awake; | What can awake thee, unawaked by this?--"