When from the bursting graves the dust shall rise,

All nature smiling; and, by angels borne,

Messiah’s cross, far blazing o’er the skies.

Mickle.

Hear the just law, the judgment of the skies;

He that hates truth shall be the dupe of lies;

And he that will be cheated to the last,

Delusions strong as hell shall bind him fast.

But if the wanderer his mistake discern,

Judge his own ways, and sigh for a return,