2 But man is constituted lord
Of this inferior earth,

And moves a greater world, in right
Of his transcendent birth.

3 This mighty monarch throws his eye
O'er his extended realm;

Sees nature working for his use,
And seats him at her helm.

4 The plants, the beasts, the birds submit
To his imperial sway;
The finny people render him
The tribute of the sea.

5 His power resistless is confess'd
By elephants and whales;

He bears loud thunder in his hands;
The winds wait on his sails.

6 The air, the earth, the glorious sun,
The wide extended sea,

Supply his wants, to his delights,
And humble homage pay.

7 To mould himself, or more or less,

To good or ill, he's free;
And is the maker of himself

In kind, and in degree.

8 Nay, of this present world he rules,
He reaps as he hath sown;
And (such it's plastic nature) forms
A new world of his own.

9 Where'er he goes, he grandeur gives
To every object near;

While distant mountains sink to hills,
Or but as clouds appear.

10 Th' adjacent hills to mountains rise
To fill their monarch's sight;

As proud of their approach, they spread,
And climb to greater height.

11 On whatsoe'er around he looks,

As it approaches nigh,

Th' ambitious object larger grows,

And swells to meet his eye;

12 But shrinks in bulk, in colour fades,
If at a distance plac'd

From him, whose presence gave it size,
As banish'd and disgrac'd.

13 Where'er he moves, to right or left,
His eyes, if upward hurl'd,
Inform him, he himself is still

The centre of the world.

14 Man's then a greater world than this, Whereof he's lord and head;

This orb created for his use,

And humbled to his tread.

15 Altho' his days are here but few,
Yet in th' historic page,
In the prophetic too, he lives,
And lives from age to age.

16 Not only this inferior world
In vassalage is given,

But to his utmost wish proposed
Reversions high in heaven.

17 To these his views are upward call'd
From this subservient globe;

He manna for his food foretastes,
Of light foresees his robe.

18 Is not then man a mighty world,
Of more than matter made?
A reasoning world, that is to shine,
When sun and moon shall fade?

19 Thro' ample space this mental world
Surveys the realms above;

Where God, by still more glorious works
His wonder prompts and love.

20 The starry heavens attract his sight,
Where suns unnumbered blaze;
Where the creating word of God
Unbounded power displays.

21 Around these suns, so wide is space,
Is left sufficient room,

(Tho' seen from hence as brilliant dust,) For circling worlds to spoom.

22 Far other systems which with these
In nothing correspond,

Hereafter he may view and know,
All mortal ken beyond;

23 To angels prove his kindred good,
And reign with them above,
A great recipient, and a source
Of endless joy and love.

24 How great a being then is man,
If only thus surveyed!
But how do sin and folly join
This being to degrade!

25 When ignorance and vice prevail,
He falls, alas! how low!

When sickness, pain, and death succeed,
He sinks to endless woe.

26 God made us upright, but we seek
Inventions of our own;

And hence by every blast of whim
From wisdom we are blown.

27 Of wisdom, virtue is the child,
And vice from folly springs;
O wretched man! to folly wed,
With all her train of stings.

28 Of wisdom, man at first possess'd,
Enjoyed her portion, power;

But wisdom he too soon forsook,
And with her lost her dower.

29 What he now claims of either serves
To heighten his distress;

A happier man he still might be,
If greater, or if less.

30 Only to plunge himself in straits,
How sharp is he, and wise!
How mighty to do mischief he!
How strong to fall, not rise!

31 From truth and honour he departs,
And into falsehood sinks!

In wily arts, in base designs,
In treachery he stinks.

32 The good he does his pride subverts,
Good works the man arraign;

His virtues swell his list of sins;
He's wicked, who is vain.

33 But oh! how little is the good,
His fancy on the stretch,

Applauds him for (if fairly weighed),
And plumes the bloated wretch!

34 Nay, how he often brags of vice,
And boasts himself the tool

Of sins he never durst commit!
The despicable fool!

35 What glory can pretended vice
To such a wretch transmit?

Who claims the honour to be deemed
The devil's hypocrite?

36 How does man upward sometimes rise!
How downward thrown again!

How herds he now among the swine!
How ranks he now with men!

37 On piety and wisdom raised,
On virtue how he soars!
But by corruption overthrown,
How he his fall deplores!

38 Reason and conscience dictate this,
Desire and passion, that;

Interest and cunning combat both;
What's man then! tell me, what?

39 An angel or a demon comes
From this intestine jar;

But which of these, who can decide,
While all within is war?

40 When this mysterious conflict seiz'd
On my bewildered mind,

Confusion rag'd thro' all my thoughts,
And wretched I was blind.

41 Without all form, and void I was;
The chaos in my soul

Of hopes, of fears, of doubts, then reigned

O'er me without control.

42 Shall we ascribe this wond'rous work, So little, and so great,

So wretched, or so happy, Lord,

To thee, or to blind fate?

43 Let there be light, said Christ, and light
There was, and so uprear'd

Truth's banner to the world; which seen,
All doubting disappear'd.

44 Then I perceived that man was made
Consistent with his place;
And that this attribute explains
God's dealings with our race.

45 Here in the gospel-letters writ,
And characters of light,

We read man coming forth from God
A pure unspotted spright.

46 And here we see him basely fall,
By liberty misus'd;

His nature stain'd, and God enrag'd
At bounty thus abus'd.

47 To him thus driven up and down,
And this and that way hurl'd,
His Saviour comes, to lift him high
O'er this fallacious world.

48" For shame!" he cries, "assert thy rank, To native wisdom turn;

Lift up thy eyes to future things,
The present wisely spurn.

49 Grovel no more, thou son of God,
Nor welter in the mire;
To wisdom first, to virtue next,
And then to heaven, aspire.

50 For greater things I made thee, man,
And come to be thy guide ;
Take up thy cross and follow me,
But bid adieu to pride.

51 Man, falling, must endure the scourge
Of trouble e'er he rise;

Must find himself a wretched fool,
Before he can grow wise.