Who is the King of Glory? HEAR, O ye nations! hear it, O ye dead! He rose! he rose! he burst the bars of death. Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates! And give the King of glory to come in. Who is the King of glory? he who left His throne of glory, for the pang of death! Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates! And give the King of glory to come in. Who is the King of glory? he who slew The ravenous foe, that gorg'd all human race! The King of glory, he, whose glory fill'd Heaven with amazement at his love to man; And with divine complacency beheld Powers most illumin'd wilder'd in the theme. The theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain? Oh the burst gates! crush'd sting! demolish'd throne! Last gasp! of vanquish'd Death. Shout Earth and Heaven! This sum of good to man. Whose nature, then, Took wing, and mounted with him from the tomb! Then, then, I rose; then first humanity Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of light, Was, then, transferr'd to death; and Heaven's duration Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame, This child of dust-Man, all immortal! hail; Of being, to preclude a close of woe? Where, then, my boast of immortality? I boast it still, though cover'd o'er with guilt; My name in Heaven, with that inverted spear And opened there a font for all mankind, Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink, and live: This, only this, subdues the fear of death. And what is this?-Survey the wondrous cure: And at each step, let higher wonder rise! "Pardon for infinite offence! and pardon Through means that speak its value infinite! A pardon bought with blood! with blood divine! With blood divine of him I made my foe! Persisted to provoke! though woo'd, and aw'd, Blest, and chastis'd, a flagrant rebel still! A rebel, 'midst the thunders of his throne! Nor I alone! a rebel universe! My species up in arms! not one exempt! O what a scale of miracles is here! Its lowest round, high planted on the skies; And all her spicy mountains in a flame. So dear, so due to Heaven, shall praise descend, Oh love of gold! thou meanest of amours! Their future ornaments? From courts and thrones, Return, apostate Praise! thou vagabond! soar, The soul to be. Men homage pay to men, Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow In mutual awe profound of clay to clay, Of guilt to guilt; and turn their back on thee, Great Sire! whom thrones celestial ceaseless sing: To prostrate angels, an amazing scene! O the presumption of man's awe for man! Man's Author! End! Restorer! Law! and Judge! Thine, all; day thine, and thine this gloom of night, With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds: What, night eternal, but a frown from thee? What, Heaven's meridian glory, but thy smile? And shall not praise be thine, not human praise ? While Heaven's high host on hallelujahs live? O may I breathe no longer than I breathe My soul in praise to him, who gave my soul, And all her infinite of prospect fair, Cut through the shades of Hell, great love! by thee, O most adorable! most unador'd, Where shall that praise begin, which ne'er should end? Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause! pomp, This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlay'd! My prostrate soul adores the present God: My voice (if tun'd); the nerve, that writes, sustains: Wrapt in his being, I resound his praise: The nameless He, whose nod is Nature's birth; And Nature's shield, the shadow of his hand; Her dissolution, his suspended smile! The great First-Last! pavilion'd high he sits, |