Thy welfare, nature! and thy God’s renown.
That touch, with charm celestial, heals the soul
Diseased, drives pain from guilt, lights life in death,
Turns earth to heaven, to heavenly thrones transforms
The ghastly ruins of the mouldering tomb. 690
Dost ask me when? When He who died returns;
Returns, how changed! Where then the man of woe?
In glory’s terrors all the Godhead burns;
And all his courts, exhausted by the tide
Of deities triumphant in his train,