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CHAPTER 12th.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse |  |
Alas! such Follies not ev'n Fools suffice,
Nor yield the Spirit pure and genuine Joys;
But like lit thorns that crackle round a pot,
Just for a moment blaze, and then, are not;
So may such frail amusements flaunt awhile,
Inflame fall'n Souls—make sinful Bodies broil,
But soon such fuel with a flash consumes,
And mocks its furnishers with murkier glooms;
While, in each Mind, some rankling thorn remains,
To rouze remorse, and pierce with lasting pains!
But Heav'n's blest Worshippers, who live below,
Experience pleasure's, still increasing, glow;
Pure, genuine pleasures, while they sojourn here,
And bliss unbounded in celestial Sphere!
Nor yield the Spirit pure and genuine Joys;
But like lit thorns that crackle round a pot,
Just for a moment blaze, and then, are not;
So may such frail amusements flaunt awhile,
Inflame fall'n Souls—make sinful Bodies broil,
But soon such fuel with a flash consumes,
And mocks its furnishers with murkier glooms;
While, in each Mind, some rankling thorn remains,
To rouze remorse, and pierce with lasting pains!
But Heav'n's blest Worshippers, who live below,
Experience pleasure's, still increasing, glow;
Pure, genuine pleasures, while they sojourn here,
And bliss unbounded in celestial Sphere!
On such occasions Crispin had no call
To occupy an active post, at all;
Yet would his heart rebel, his Conscience burn,
To mark immortal Creatures' unconcern;
And, in the fervour of his faithful zeal
For Christ, and for the Christian Commonweal,
Oft urge on all the servile train around,
Their breach of duty, and his bosom's wound!
To occupy an active post, at all;
Yet would his heart rebel, his Conscience burn,
To mark immortal Creatures' unconcern;
And, in the fervour of his faithful zeal
For Christ, and for the Christian Commonweal,
Oft urge on all the servile train around,
Their breach of duty, and his bosom's wound!
How could he countenance the daring deed,
That broke the Law, his Lord, and their's, decreed;
Or reconcile such conduct with the phrase
Of keeping holy Heav'n's appointed Days!
That broke the Law, his Lord, and their's, decreed;
Or reconcile such conduct with the phrase
Of keeping holy Heav'n's appointed Days!
Contempt and pity, both, disturb'd his pow'rs,
At thus perverting Heav'n's most holy hours
Contempt, that Courtiers were no better taught,
And, pity, for their want of wiser thought;
Considering such blind Souls must die unblest,
For each bold breach of Heav'n's most high behest,
Should they their God and Saviour so offend,
Without repentance, till Life's fatal end.
The only plea pure Charity could urge,
To stop the sentence, and restrain the scourge,
Must be Christ's caveat o'er His murderers' Crew,
“Father—forgive! they know not what they do!”
At thus perverting Heav'n's most holy hours
Contempt, that Courtiers were no better taught,
And, pity, for their want of wiser thought;
Considering such blind Souls must die unblest,
For each bold breach of Heav'n's most high behest,
Should they their God and Saviour so offend,
Without repentance, till Life's fatal end.
The only plea pure Charity could urge,
To stop the sentence, and restrain the scourge,
Must be Christ's caveat o'er His murderers' Crew,
“Father—forgive! they know not what they do!”
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But how could this be argued, when the herd
Was headed, oft, by Guardians of God's Word?
Not its true Ministers; their hearts would dread
To find their Souls to such temptation led;
But those High-priests who rank with temporal Peers,
The Church's Chiefs! Christ's Household-Overseers!
These ought, by greater trusts much more engage
To guide and govern Heav'n's fair heritage;
And should, with shine, supreme, transcendent stand,
Like Suns, sublime, to light a cloudy Land—
Or, like fix'd Pole-stars, permanent, and clear,
Teach Christ's true Sailors how their course to steer.
And tho' too rich—too idle—and too proud,
To teach, by precepts, the profaner Crowd,
Yet should their sanctity, each Sabbath, shine,
To prove God's Mandate, and His Day, divine—
Not let their living, like their silent lips,
Spread o'er cold Consciences a dark eclipse—
Tho' not by Sermons, by Example, say,
“Remember Thou keep holy Heav'n's own Day!”
Was headed, oft, by Guardians of God's Word?
Not its true Ministers; their hearts would dread
To find their Souls to such temptation led;
But those High-priests who rank with temporal Peers,
The Church's Chiefs! Christ's Household-Overseers!
These ought, by greater trusts much more engage
To guide and govern Heav'n's fair heritage;
And should, with shine, supreme, transcendent stand,
Like Suns, sublime, to light a cloudy Land—
Or, like fix'd Pole-stars, permanent, and clear,
Teach Christ's true Sailors how their course to steer.
And tho' too rich—too idle—and too proud,
To teach, by precepts, the profaner Crowd,
Yet should their sanctity, each Sabbath, shine,
To prove God's Mandate, and His Day, divine—
Not let their living, like their silent lips,
Spread o'er cold Consciences a dark eclipse—
Tho' not by Sermons, by Example, say,
“Remember Thou keep holy Heav'n's own Day!”
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CHAPTER 12th.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse | |