human
Veiling his horrible God-head in the shape Of man, scorn'd by the world, his name unheard, Save by the rabble of his native town, Even as a parish demagogue. He led The crowd; he taught them justice, truth, and peace, In semblance; but he lit within their souls The quenchless flame of zeal, and blest the sword He brought on earth to satiate with the blood Of truth and freedom his malignant soul.
gpt
I will beget a son, and he shall bear The sins of all the world; he shall arise In an unnoticed corner of the earth, And he shall die upon a cross, and purge The universal crime; so that the few On whom my grace descends, those who are marked As vessels to the honor of their God, May credit this strange sacrifice, and save Their souls alive. Millions shall live and die, Who ne'er shall call upon their Saviour's name, But unredeem'd go to the gaping grave; Thousands shall deem it an old woman's tale, Such as the nurses frighten babes withal; These, in a gulf of anguish an I of flame, Shall curse their reprobation endlessly, Yet tenfold pangs shall force them to avow, Even on their beds of torment, where they howl, My honor and the justice of their doom. What then avail their virtuous deeds, their thoughts Of purity, with radiant genius bright, Or lit with human reason's earthly ray? Many are call'd but few will I elect.