Such is now
His sovereign purpose; such it was before
All multitude of years. For his right arm
Was never idle; his bestowing love
Knew no beginning; was not as a change
Of mood that woke at last and started up
After a deep and solitary sloth
Of boundless ages. No; he now is good,
He ever was. The feet of hoary Time 240
Through their eternal course have travell'd o'er
No speechless, lifeless desert; but through scenes
Cheerful with bounty still; among a pomp
Of worlds, for gladness round the Maker's throne
Loud-shouting, or, in many dialects
Of hope and filial trust, imploring thence
The fortunes of their people: where so fix'd
Were all the dates of being, so disposed
To every living soul of every kind
The field of motion and the hour of rest, 250
That each the general happiness might serve;
And, by the discipline of laws divine
Convinced of folly or chastised from guilt,
Each might at length be happy. What remains
Shall be like what is past; but fairer still,
And still increasing in the godlike gifts
Of Life and Truth. The same paternal hand,
From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore,
To men, to angels, to celestial minds,
Will ever lead the generations on 260
Through higher scenes of being; while, supplied
From day to day by his enlivening breath,
Inferior orders in succession rise
To fill the void below.
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