How this ties up the bounteous hand of Heaven! 569
Oh, vain, vain, vain, all else! Eternity!
A glorious and a needful refuge, that,
From vile imprisonment, in abject views.
’Tis immortality, ’tis that alone,
Amid life’s pains, abasements, emptiness,
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill.
That only, and that amply, this performs;
Lifts us above life’s pains, her joys above;
Their terror those, and these their lustre lose;