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Memorials, Scientific and Literary of Andrew Crosse, the Electrician – Cornelia and Andrew Crosse

"THE God who bade each element
Be formed, and it was done,
And raised the attractive power to link
The two or more in one;

"Who from the simples compounds made,
And bade the compounds roll,
Unnumbered globes, through Heaven's wide space
In one resplendent whole;

"Who willed that all around should change
That dwells in earthly frame,
Contrast to Him who was and is
Eternally the same;

"Who, set on this; our smaller sphere,
Man’s fleeting race assigned
To lord it in a troubled dream
By virtue of his mind;

"Saw fit, through his Almighty ken,
Two opposites to blend,
The two extremes of good and ill,
The antagonist and friend!

"Half-blest, half-curst, this motley globe
Self-balanced whirls along,
And light and shade alternate play
Upon the right and wrong.

"And smooth and rough, and gay and sad,
And great and vile are found;
They mingle in our brightest hours,
In deepest night surround.

"Nor can the extent of human wit
The right from wrong divide,
For (such is the Creator’s will)
They travel side by side.

"And as they soften into one,
The line where they unite
Yields not a stain its course to trace
Or point the wrong from right.

"So the pure stream glides from the land
Into the briny deep,
And fresh and salt together tossed,
In mutual eddies leap.

"But He who made the thorn so sharp,
Can heal the wound that's given,
And each new pang that rends the heart
May earn a brighter heaven.

"Oh! look around and bow the knee!
Not to earth's sceptred race,
The inflated froth of tyrant pomp,
The plaything of the base!

"Oh! look around and bow to Him
Whose works a language tell
Which vibrates to the inmost core
Of all who feel their spell!

"Nor does kind nature from the poor
Untaught her beauties shroud,
Nor deck her in her gorgeous dress
As tribute to the proud.

"For all alike the sun throws out
His unselecting beams,
For all the generous waters pour
Their multitude of streams.

"The tulip glows not on its stem,
To please the chosen few,
Nor do the birds for these alone
Their morning hymn renew.

"The terrors of the unsparing storm
Flash on the lightning’s wing,
To smite, with equal fury hurled,
The peasant and the king.

"Yet though earth's thoughtless myriads
May Nature's wand obey,
May smile at flowers, or shrink at storms,
As charms or terrors sway;

"Can these, who scarce the surface skim,
Be struck with equal awe,
As in the mind of him who strives
To learn creation's law?