University of Virginia Library

No Palace He possest—no downy Bed—
He had not where to lay His weary Head—
Ne'er taught His Friends to seek frail Joys of Sense,
But simply lean on His pure Providence;
And, with Him, seek blest solace, from above,
The Spirit's influence, and His Father's Love!

His Pow'r all Delicacies could create
Yet He ne'er coveted one dainty Cate,
But Hunger's craving calls were humbly staid,
With orts of barley bread, Himself had made;
While, meekly adding one more simple dish,
Cold fragments of his own-created fish.

He never sought the Sovereign to express
By pompous, delicate—expensive Dress,
But, tho' the glorious King of all the Globe,
His Frame He folded in the rudest Robe!
Clear emblem of His Character, and Scheme,
One perfect piece, without a single seam.

He never sought to stretch His temporal sway
By making neighbouring Potentates obey;
Or to extend His Kingdom's ample bound,
By spreading desolating War around!

He never chose His Ministers from such
As had, already, Pow'r and Pelf too much;
From Schools, from cunning Scribes, or Worldly-wise,
To win by Wit, or govern by Disguise;
But from the simple Sons of Care and Toil,
Free from Ambition, and devoid of Guile—
Such as His meek forerunner, Moses, sought,
By heav'n-instructed Jethro justly taught—
Not from proud Ancients, or perverted Youth,
But punctual Men for Probity and Truth.
Not arbitrary Knaves, a Nation's rod,
But faithful, gracious, Men, who fear'd their God!
Men who would every selfish view detest,
With whom the multitude might well be blest—
Of modern Ministers the full reverse,
The peaceful People's bane, the Kingdom's curse!
No frippery badges, He, on Friends bestow'd,
Or placed them in Preferment's restless road;
But, that the Great might not the small devour,
Decreed equality in Place—and—Pow'r.
His pure pacific reign, how different far
From courtly jangle, or domestic jar—
His humble Aspect, and his Wisdom, wide
From all the pomp of Wealth, and warlike Pride—
A happy Pattern, brought from Heav'n above,
To 'stablish Peace, on principles of Love!
His Honours and high Favours, not confin'd
To mystic Friends, but free for all Mankind!
A moral Government—where none could claim
Unequal Wealth, or Influence, Pomp or Fame:
But each, submitting to His kingly call
Was eager to distribute helps to all.
Superior stood His intellectual Code,
A perfect Plan, brought from His first Abode;
Where Thanks and Praise, in act, or word, or thought,
All center'd in the Saviour, where they ought—
Where that blest Subject was the most esteem'd,
Whatever Pride, or Plot, design'd, or dream'd;
When God's first image, with each grace endued,
Was, in its noblest characters, renew'd;
And he that best pursued His holy plan,
Became in Earth and Heav'n, the happiest Man!

'Tis true His Pow'r to every human heart
Could all those perfect characters impart—
Could fit the meanest of the mortal Host,
To fill the Minister's, or Monarch's, Post;
Or instantly reclaim what Love had lent
To Priests or Princes thro' all Earth's extent—
Yet did that Pow'r no Potentate dethrone,
Or claim their earthly Crowns, tho' all His own;
Ne'er from their Seats Earth's mighty Sovereign hurl'd—
For—His pure Kingdom was not of this World!

Did He not, here, a perfect Pattern show,
For all Mankind to copy whilst below?
And left He not rescindless Laws behind,
The thoughts—words—actions—ev'n of Kings, to bind?
Confirm'd He not His Father's first Command
On all the reasoning Race? in every Land?
To love the Lord their God, thro' Life's whole length,
With all their Heart, and Soul, and Mind and Strength?
And did He not enjoin those unjust Elves
To love their Neighbours as they love Themselves?
And hath not now His Hand a rich resource
His Father's orders fully to enforce;
For hath not that almighty Father giv'n
Unbounded Pow'r to Him, in Earth and Heav'n?
And will He not by those dread Rules decree,
What kingly Butcher's endless lot shall be?
But tho' such Potsherds of the Earth should strive
To keep their Pride, Pow'r, Pomp, and Lust, alive;
And should that Pow'r and Pomp the Poor depress;
That Pride and Lust surrounding Lands distress;
Yet when the mutual Pride and Lust shall clash,
His Judgments will to dust such Potsherds dash—
And tho' injurious Pomp, and Pow'r unjust,
On Christians trample, or a Kingdom's Trust;
His Might, more blest—His louder Trumpet's blast—
Shall call these Kings before His Bar, at last;
And, stripp'd of Pomp and Pow'r to Hell be sent,
With Lust and Pride to heighten Punishment!

Would not these temporal Rulers, then, do right
To keep the traits of His blest Image bright?
His Precepts practice—furious Vengeance fear—
While plac'd on Thrones, probationary, here?
Till, He, in Glory, grace the Earth, agen,
To rule and reign o'er all the Sons of Men—
When His pure, perfect, Kingdom will begin,
By chaining Satan, and by chasing Sin;
While swaying in the Souls, and Hearts, of all,
Till earthly Thrones, Crowns, Sceptres, Kingdoms, fall!

Such Governors, of old, a gracious few,
The separate Progeny of Jacob knew.
Prophets, and Seers, and upright Judges, nam'd;
Who neither Wealth—Pow'r—Pomp—or Honour, claim'd.
Ne'er levied on the Poor, oppressive Rate
To plume Themselves, and Sons, in splendid State.
Ne'er kindled War to quell a neighbouring Race,
Who push'd a Tyrant from despotic place,
Lest such example should like practice spread,
To level Thrones and lop each Despot's head.
They ne'er collected cruel, hostile, Hosts,
To pour destruction on contiguous Coasts,
But for Self-preservation, strove, alone,
With honest prudence to protect their Own.
Ne'er exercis'd, at Home, a scourging rod,
But lov'd their Neighbours, and rever'd their God;
For whom they govern'd, and from whom endued
With gracious Faith, and glorious Fortitude,
They judg'd, according with his just Command,
To drive each Idol from that holy Land.
Urg'd all His precepts in the plainest guise,
From whence all real happiness must rise;
Despising Grandeur, and all graceless Gain,
And leaving Him, alone, to rule and reign.

But what are modern Monarchs—reigning, now—
Tho' gold bedeck the breast, and grace the brow—
And tho' with pearls, and gems, each garment shine—
And tho' by stupid Bigots deem'd divine—
Tho' in a pompous Palace each reside,
Or, compass'd round with Throngs, in thunder, ride,
Amidst the wretched Ranks of low Degree,
And scowl disdain on Slaves, like Them, and Me—
Yet tho' their Lightnings fly—loud Thunders roll—
Heav'n values, equal, Clown's—Slave's—Servant's, Soul!
Kings are but transient Meteors, rais'd by Birth,
To blaze a moment, more than other Earth!
All big-swoll'n bubbles! by their Fellows blown,
And seated high, like Gods, on sovereign Throne;
Which from mere frailty burst! or feel offence,
When brother bubbles strive to dash them thence!
Bright Idols! but of fleshly matter form'd,
By Appetites, and Pride, and Passions, warm'd;
With all the Lusts which human Souls besot
Much more enthralling thro' their kingly lot.
In lofty Temple lodg'd! with gildings grac'd!
All heavenly honours paid! but most misplaced—
Like what the World to its proud Master pays,
Great Beelzebub! in countless words, and ways!
Such as above belong to Nature's God
Each cringing Courtier trembling at their nod;
More than all Heathens' adoration shown
To hammer'd Metal—chizzell'd Wood, or Stone!
Ev'n those have merits with the thriftless Throng
Which never can to Flesh and Blood belong;
For they maintain their substance, form, and size,
While Kings, Corruption, or dire Worm, destroys—
And, tho' they cost, at first, more fruitless Coin,
They want no wardrobes—costly cates—nor wine.
Need no Attendants to increase the cost,
Or splendid Equipage with gold embost—
Ne'er by their blunders Ministers mislead,
Or propagate expensive bastard Breed,
To aggravate the labouring Poor's expence
Yet yield no helps for comfort or defence.
Then are not those more inoffensive Things
Than any cunning, mischief-making Kings?
Mere Images! by subtle Mortals made,
To carry on corrupt, and treacherous Trade!
Worse than the Craftesmen's Shrines, which caus'd such fuss,
When Paul first preach'd at heathen Ephesus!
To dazzle every Dupe's devoted eyes,
Whose Soul no deeper than the surface pries;
And make each mad, infatuated, Fool,
Fit for mock Majesty's implicit Tool;
Not only to adore, with apt devoirs,
But pay all dues, and duties, it requires.
Set up, in perpetuity to stand,
For Image-worship in a foolish Land;
For when, with Age, such living Idol dies,
Its Idol-Offspring soon the place supplies,
Whose Pow'r, like eastern Lama's, ne'er expires,
Youth ever-springing up as Age retires.

Thus chousing Rascals carry on the cheat,
Who daily profit by the deep deceit;
And Kings will fondly act the cunning Farce
Till Knaves grow honest, Fools, and Coxcombs, scarce.
An old idolatrous, yea, devilish trick!
Which makes the Conscience of true Christian, sick,
To see such Pimps, with impudence endued,
Ride on and rob the misled Multitude;
And, still to strengthen their oppressive pacts,
Raise up some Oaf to sanction all their acts—
While, to make superstitious Bigots bite,
They vest the Idol with an heavenly right;
For whether learn'd or ignorant, weak or wise,
They claim full deputation from the Skies;
And, whether rais'd by Ballot, or by Birth,
Are Heav'n's Vicegerents in all Realms on Earth!

But did not one great Prophet of the Jews,
When first propos'd, the impious pact refuse?
Did he not reason with the thoughtless Throng,
And plainly prove the very wish was wrong?
And did not Heav'n itself, in anger plead,
By thunderings, to condemn the daring Deed?
Yea, did not He, who came from Realms above,
Great Source of Goodness—Knowledge—Wisdom—Love!
Did He not His best-lov'd Disciple blame,
And faithful Brother, for their haughty Aim,
When They petition'd for superior Post,
That Pride might o'er their equal Brethren boast?
How then can God, all-good—all-wise—all-just!
Vest Fools, or Knaves, with such extensive Trust?
Creatures who scarce of reasoning pow'rs possest
To rule and reign, as Tyrants, o'er the Rest?
Or give One o'er his Fellows full controul
In whom Humanity ne'er moves the Soul?

He ne'er imposes such oppresive task,
Except where impious Dupes for Despots ask;
Or still permits to punish Fools' offence
Whose vain perverseness quenches Common-sense.
Now, as the dawn of Truth grows more diffus'd,
None, tamely, will submit where Trust's abus'd,
But Men, well knowing what is due to Man,
Will form a rational, and upright, Plan;
A Plan more worthy of such added Lights,
To fix, among Mankind, more equal Rights;
Confirm'd, more full, by salutary Laws,
Alike supporting every Righteous Cause—
When Pow'r, with Perfidy, shall rule no more,
To raise the Rich, or, deeper, press the Poor;
Each Idol banish'd by more christian Scheme,
While Earth gives Heav'n again the Pow'r supreme!