To Altars, and the numerous Throng,
That round his mystic Temple press,
For  Life, and  Peace,
Ambitious Muse reduce the roving Song.
, cast Thy forward Eye
Future, into great  pregnant Womb;
Where young Ideas brooding lye,
And tender Images of Things to come:
'Till by Thy high Commands releas'd;
'Till by Thy Hand in proper Atoms dress'd,
In decent Order They advance to Light;
Yet then too swiftly fleet by human Sight;
And meditate too soon their everlasting Flight.