This page has been validated.
On Liberty.
289
Listen, said he, in pity to your grief
I'll now reveal what sure will bring relief.
What you desire to learn I shall disclose,
Instruction is his due to doubt who knows.
Know then, oh! man, that you are free as I,
This is the noblest gift of the Most High;
In the free will of each intelligence
That being's life consists, its true essence.
That's free which can conceive, will, act, design;
A glorious attribute, almost divine.
This great prerogative to God we owe,
His offspring we, His images below:
His word all powerful made heaven, earth, and seas,
The body thus the will's command obeys.
Sovereign on earth, a powerful king by thought,
Nature by thee is to thy purpose brought;
The zephyr you command, the roaring main;
You can your will and even desires restrain.
Of liberty, if we the soul divest,
What is it? 'Tis a subtile flame at best.
Were we deprived once of the power to choose,
We should in fact our very being lose;
Machines we should be by the Almighty wrought,
Curious automatons endowed with thought.
We should delusion suffer every hour,
Tools of the Deity's despotic power.
Could man, not free, God's image be esteemed?
Could works like these be profitable deemed?
Can't he then please God, can't he give offence,
Can God not punish us nor recompense?
I'll now reveal what sure will bring relief.
What you desire to learn I shall disclose,
Instruction is his due to doubt who knows.
Know then, oh! man, that you are free as I,
This is the noblest gift of the Most High;
In the free will of each intelligence
That being's life consists, its true essence.
That's free which can conceive, will, act, design;
A glorious attribute, almost divine.
This great prerogative to God we owe,
His offspring we, His images below:
His word all powerful made heaven, earth, and seas,
The body thus the will's command obeys.
Sovereign on earth, a powerful king by thought,
Nature by thee is to thy purpose brought;
The zephyr you command, the roaring main;
You can your will and even desires restrain.
Of liberty, if we the soul divest,
What is it? 'Tis a subtile flame at best.
Were we deprived once of the power to choose,
We should in fact our very being lose;
Machines we should be by the Almighty wrought,
Curious automatons endowed with thought.
We should delusion suffer every hour,
Tools of the Deity's despotic power.
Could man, not free, God's image be esteemed?
Could works like these be profitable deemed?
Can't he then please God, can't he give offence,
Can God not punish us nor recompense?
