Sonnet XXIX. To The Rev. Dr. Chalmers

Well hast thou reason'd, Chalmers, on the deep
And awful mystery of redeeming love,
With argument profound intent to prove
How the Omniscient Mind doth ever keep
Protective watch on Heaven's empyreal steep,
O'er suns and systems through all space that move;
While yet its sleepless eyes minutely rove
Through lowliest dwellings in which mortals sleep.
Methinks, great Teacher, of that Mind thine own
Yields a faint emblem, who hast power to soar
On wing seraphic toward the Eternal Throne,
And Heaven and Hell's mysterious depths explore;
Yet on the meanest cot where poor men groan
Deignest thy wisdom's healing light to pour.