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For in his own and in his Father's might
The Saviour comes! While as to solemn strains380
The thousand years lead up their mystic dance,
Old Ocean claps his hands! the Desert shouts!
And soft gales wafted from the haunts of Spring
Melt the primœval North! The mighty Dead
Rise to new life, whoe'er from earliest time385
With conscious zeal had urg'd Love's wond'rous plan
Coadjutors of God. To Milton's trump
The odorous groves of earth reparadis'd
Unbosom their glad echoes: inly hush'd
Adoring Newton his serener eye390
Raises to heaven: and he of mortal kind
Wisest, he[1] first who mark'd the ideal tribes
Down the fine fibres from the sentient brain
- ↑ David Hartley.
