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Poem
October 1, 1834
Morning Star
Limerick, York County, Maine
What is this article about?
A religious poem refuting atheism by marveling at the intricate design of the human body and creation, quoting Psalm 139:14, and proclaiming the existence of God as the divine creator.
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Full Text
POETRY
THE MECHANISM OF MAN.
I am fearfully and wonderfully made.—Psalm 139: 14.
Fond Atheist! could a giddy dance
Of atoms blindly hurled
Produce so regular, so fair,
So harmonized a world?
Why do not Libya's driving sands
The sport of every storm,
A palace rear, the child of chance,
Or there a temple form?
Presumptuous wretch! thyself survey—
That lesser fabric scan;
Tell me from whence the immortal dust,
The God, the reptile man?
Where wast thou, when the embryo earth
From chaos burst its way—
When stars exulting sang the morn,
And hailed the new-born day?
What fingers brace the tender nerves,
The twisting fibres spin?
Who clothes in flesh the hardening bone,
And weaves the silken skin?
How came the brain and beating heart,
Life's more immediate throne,
(Where fatal every touch,) to dwell
Immailed in solid bone?
Who taught the wandering tides of blood
To leave the vital urn—
Visit each limb in purple streams,
And faithfully return?
How know the nerves to bear the will,
The heavy limbs to wield?
The tongue ten thousand tastes discern,
Ten thousand accents yield?
How know the lungs to heave and pant!
Or how the fringed lid
To guard the fearful eye, or brush
The sullied ball unbid?
The delicate and winding ear
To imagine every sound—
The eye to catch the pleasing view,
And tell the senses round?
Who bids the babe, now launched in life,
The milky draught arrest,
And with its eager finger press
The nectar streaming breast?
Who, with a love too big for words.
The mother's bosom warms,
Along the rugged paths of life,
To bear it in her arms?
A God! a God! creation shouts;
A God! each insect cries;
He moulded in his palm the earth,
And hung it in the skies.
N. Y. Mechan. Mag.
THE MECHANISM OF MAN.
I am fearfully and wonderfully made.—Psalm 139: 14.
Fond Atheist! could a giddy dance
Of atoms blindly hurled
Produce so regular, so fair,
So harmonized a world?
Why do not Libya's driving sands
The sport of every storm,
A palace rear, the child of chance,
Or there a temple form?
Presumptuous wretch! thyself survey—
That lesser fabric scan;
Tell me from whence the immortal dust,
The God, the reptile man?
Where wast thou, when the embryo earth
From chaos burst its way—
When stars exulting sang the morn,
And hailed the new-born day?
What fingers brace the tender nerves,
The twisting fibres spin?
Who clothes in flesh the hardening bone,
And weaves the silken skin?
How came the brain and beating heart,
Life's more immediate throne,
(Where fatal every touch,) to dwell
Immailed in solid bone?
Who taught the wandering tides of blood
To leave the vital urn—
Visit each limb in purple streams,
And faithfully return?
How know the nerves to bear the will,
The heavy limbs to wield?
The tongue ten thousand tastes discern,
Ten thousand accents yield?
How know the lungs to heave and pant!
Or how the fringed lid
To guard the fearful eye, or brush
The sullied ball unbid?
The delicate and winding ear
To imagine every sound—
The eye to catch the pleasing view,
And tell the senses round?
Who bids the babe, now launched in life,
The milky draught arrest,
And with its eager finger press
The nectar streaming breast?
Who, with a love too big for words.
The mother's bosom warms,
Along the rugged paths of life,
To bear it in her arms?
A God! a God! creation shouts;
A God! each insect cries;
He moulded in his palm the earth,
And hung it in the skies.
N. Y. Mechan. Mag.
What sub-type of article is it?
Hymn
Ode
What themes does it cover?
Religious Faith
What keywords are associated?
Atheism
Creation
Human Body
Divine Design
Psalm 139
What entities or persons were involved?
N. Y. Mechan. Mag.
Poem Details
Title
The Mechanism Of Man.
Author
N. Y. Mechan. Mag.
Subject
The Mechanism Of Man
Key Lines
Fond Atheist! Could A Giddy Dance
Of Atoms Blindly Hurled
Produce So Regular, So Fair,
So Harmonized A World?
A God! A God! Creation Shouts;
A God! Each Insect Cries;
He Moulded In His Palm The Earth,
And Hung It In The Skies.