 |
CHAPTER 17th.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse |  |
CHAPTER 17th.
Thus Crispin, warm'd with patriotic sparks,
On Rulers, and false Rules, made free remarks;
Which as his Duties left much leisure Time
He oft essay'd to sketch in rustic Rhyme.
Time, he well knew, throughout its whole amount,
Was noted down, by Heav'n in clear account;
And was to Man, like all his Talents, lent,
To exercise for good—not idly spent—
Each hour to urge some useful task assign'd,
To honour Heav'n, or benefit Mankind.
Not slattern'd o'er, without one worthy Thought,
Or useful Action, as a Thing of nought;
Not thrown away, like thoughtless Infant's Toys
Without once judging future pains and joys.
On Rulers, and false Rules, made free remarks;
Which as his Duties left much leisure Time
He oft essay'd to sketch in rustic Rhyme.
Time, he well knew, throughout its whole amount,
Was noted down, by Heav'n in clear account;
And was to Man, like all his Talents, lent,
To exercise for good—not idly spent—
Each hour to urge some useful task assign'd,
To honour Heav'n, or benefit Mankind.
Not slattern'd o'er, without one worthy Thought,
Or useful Action, as a Thing of nought;
Not thrown away, like thoughtless Infant's Toys
Without once judging future pains and joys.
What Man can fail to mark, who once reflects,
How Mind degenerates 'mid such loose neglects;
For Thought, when disengag'd from useful Themes,
Will wildly ramble in delirious Dreams;
In wanton reasonings, or weak reveries,
The Heart's impure propensities to please,
Till Christ controuls the wayward Will, by Grace,
And pure Reflections fill their proper place.
How Mind degenerates 'mid such loose neglects;
For Thought, when disengag'd from useful Themes,
Will wildly ramble in delirious Dreams;
In wanton reasonings, or weak reveries,
The Heart's impure propensities to please,
Till Christ controuls the wayward Will, by Grace,
And pure Reflections fill their proper place.
When Spirit's nobler pow'rs are all employ'd,
With Virtue's growths to fill gross Fancy's void;
Or lifts, to Heav'n affections most sublime,
For every Gift and Grace vouchsaf'd in Time;
Christ, condescending such attempts to bless
Pours thro' each pulse Earth's highest happiness:
But when its Faculties no farther strive
To keep that pure Felicity alive;
Then, Spirit, struggling to be happy still,
Makes Passion operate on suspended Will—
To ease the Heart of every wearying weight,
Wakes prurient Appetites from torpid state;
Or sends Imagination gadding round
To find gross pleasures on forbidden ground—
Decided, oft, by carnal Nature's voice,
To make mistaken, vain, or vicious choice;
And bringing home Companions to the breast,
Which rob the Conscience of accustom'd rest.
With Virtue's growths to fill gross Fancy's void;
Or lifts, to Heav'n affections most sublime,
For every Gift and Grace vouchsaf'd in Time;
Christ, condescending such attempts to bless
Pours thro' each pulse Earth's highest happiness:
But when its Faculties no farther strive
To keep that pure Felicity alive;
Then, Spirit, struggling to be happy still,
Makes Passion operate on suspended Will—
71
Wakes prurient Appetites from torpid state;
Or sends Imagination gadding round
To find gross pleasures on forbidden ground—
Decided, oft, by carnal Nature's voice,
To make mistaken, vain, or vicious choice;
And bringing home Companions to the breast,
Which rob the Conscience of accustom'd rest.
To give full exercise to all the Soul,
Some portion of that precious time he stole
From silent Morn's most salutary hours,
When rest had renovated all his pow'rs,
While morbid Minds indulg'd their sinful dreams,
O'er carnal crimes, or wicked worldly schemes;
When all the Progeny of Pomp, and Noise,
Were just retir'd from Fashion's jabbering Joys;
From foolish fulsome Scenes of Wealth, and Wit,
That make the Mind for Death and Heav'n unfit—
To seek fresh solace in the arms of Sleep,
While those who lend their luxuries work and weep,
When Riots' crews relinquish worn delight,
Urg'd thro' all hours of dear departed Night;
Now striving to discharge dull'd Nature's debt,
To lull their Conscience, or their Crimes forget;
Who with intemperance and debauchery drown'd,
Had just now finish'd their infernal round;
While those that feed their Follies wearied wake,
For graceless Lusts to toil, or gambling Stake.
Some portion of that precious time he stole
From silent Morn's most salutary hours,
When rest had renovated all his pow'rs,
While morbid Minds indulg'd their sinful dreams,
O'er carnal crimes, or wicked worldly schemes;
When all the Progeny of Pomp, and Noise,
Were just retir'd from Fashion's jabbering Joys;
From foolish fulsome Scenes of Wealth, and Wit,
That make the Mind for Death and Heav'n unfit—
To seek fresh solace in the arms of Sleep,
While those who lend their luxuries work and weep,
When Riots' crews relinquish worn delight,
Urg'd thro' all hours of dear departed Night;
Now striving to discharge dull'd Nature's debt,
To lull their Conscience, or their Crimes forget;
Who with intemperance and debauchery drown'd,
Had just now finish'd their infernal round;
While those that feed their Follies wearied wake,
For graceless Lusts to toil, or gambling Stake.
Confined, in silence, he conferr'd alone
With Understanding, on his mental Throne,
Amidst Imagination's throngs of thought,
And fairy broods by procreant Fancy brought;
Reason, at his right hand, her place maintain'd,
And all her faithful groups full audience gain'd,
Whose clearest arguments would recommend
Religion's Advocate, and Virtue's Friend;
While Judgment sat and heard each honest plea,
And fix'd each Verdict with his firm Decree.
With Understanding, on his mental Throne,
Amidst Imagination's throngs of thought,
And fairy broods by procreant Fancy brought;
Reason, at his right hand, her place maintain'd,
And all her faithful groups full audience gain'd,
Whose clearest arguments would recommend
Religion's Advocate, and Virtue's Friend;
While Judgment sat and heard each honest plea,
And fix'd each Verdict with his firm Decree.
Those active Pow'rs by Passion undisturb'd,
No Bribe corrupted, and no Business curb'd;
But each ideal Image, gliding by,
March'd, in review, before his mental eye,
That false, or foul, right Judgment might reject
Or Reason plead for those that claim'd respect.
Thus recommended, he, with cautious Muse,
To entertain as Favourites, or refuse,
Selected, careful from the motley mass,
For taste to shape—clothe—educate—and class—
To group for grace, or form familiar trains,
To tell true tales, or chaunt his choicest strains.
No Bribe corrupted, and no Business curb'd;
But each ideal Image, gliding by,
March'd, in review, before his mental eye,
That false, or foul, right Judgment might reject
Or Reason plead for those that claim'd respect.
Thus recommended, he, with cautious Muse,
To entertain as Favourites, or refuse,
Selected, careful from the motley mass,
For taste to shape—clothe—educate—and class—
To group for grace, or form familiar trains,
To tell true tales, or chaunt his choicest strains.
But not alone did here this Council sit,
Investigating Truth, or weighing Wit—
For proving Justice by some perfect test,
While balancing the workings of his breast,
Lest irritated Passion, Pride, or Spleen,
Should slip some ting'd, refracting lens, between,
To give each object harsh, unnatural, hue,
Or size, or figure, neither just or true.
These met, in candid Conclave, Years before,
When flagellations made each feeling sore;
Conven'd, each day, in sylvan solitude,
To sanction, or condemn, ideas rude,
Ere recommended to the Muse's choice;
As proper subjects, by their sage advice!
On which she ought bestow her tuneful Art,
To make them charm the ear, and chear the heart,
Or by unlyric Sound and lack of Sense,
To hurt the ear, and give the heart offence.
Investigating Truth, or weighing Wit—
For proving Justice by some perfect test,
While balancing the workings of his breast,
Lest irritated Passion, Pride, or Spleen,
Should slip some ting'd, refracting lens, between,
To give each object harsh, unnatural, hue,
Or size, or figure, neither just or true.
These met, in candid Conclave, Years before,
When flagellations made each feeling sore;
Conven'd, each day, in sylvan solitude,
To sanction, or condemn, ideas rude,
Ere recommended to the Muse's choice;
As proper subjects, by their sage advice!
On which she ought bestow her tuneful Art,
To make them charm the ear, and chear the heart,
Or by unlyric Sound and lack of Sense,
To hurt the ear, and give the heart offence.
Both here, and there, his intellectual eye
Perceiv'd in every place, that Being, by,
Who, at one vast, and instantaneous, view,
Probes every human heart, and spirit, through;
Beholding, day and night, at single glance,
In every Soul, each distant thought advance—
All secret embryo-aims, and wishes warm,
Long ere they're fashion'd in specific form.
Sees in each seed, and bud, before it shoots,
Hurtful, or wholesome, leaves, and flow'rs, and fruits.
In creeping Spawn, or Acorn yet unbroke,
The filthy Fungus, or the useful Oak;
In Thistles' noisome seeds, or Nuts unclove,
The Culturer's curse, or Farmer's favourite grove.
Nor sees what human Minds will yield, alone,
By natural semen in the bosom sown;
But all the germs which different Agents drop,
To generate joyous, or pernicious crop—
Not only His pure Spirit's winnow'd Wheat;
Which Man for mental Health, and Strength may eat,
But each infernal Fiend's thick-scatter'd Tares,
Producing Sorrows, Labours, Pains, and Cares,
Which Heav'n's productions, injure, or destroy,
And rob the Husbandman of Hope and Joy;
Or make pure products constantly increase,
In Crops of Comforts—Purity—and Peace!
Perceiv'd in every place, that Being, by,
Who, at one vast, and instantaneous, view,
Probes every human heart, and spirit, through;
Beholding, day and night, at single glance,
In every Soul, each distant thought advance—
All secret embryo-aims, and wishes warm,
Long ere they're fashion'd in specific form.
Sees in each seed, and bud, before it shoots,
Hurtful, or wholesome, leaves, and flow'rs, and fruits.
In creeping Spawn, or Acorn yet unbroke,
The filthy Fungus, or the useful Oak;
In Thistles' noisome seeds, or Nuts unclove,
The Culturer's curse, or Farmer's favourite grove.
Nor sees what human Minds will yield, alone,
By natural semen in the bosom sown;
But all the germs which different Agents drop,
To generate joyous, or pernicious crop—
Not only His pure Spirit's winnow'd Wheat;
Which Man for mental Health, and Strength may eat,
But each infernal Fiend's thick-scatter'd Tares,
Producing Sorrows, Labours, Pains, and Cares,
Which Heav'n's productions, injure, or destroy,
72
Or make pure products constantly increase,
In Crops of Comforts—Purity—and Peace!
Thus twice six Years he sat, and thought, or toil'd,
While Providence, alternate, frown'd or smil'd.
Sometimes appear'd his labouring pow'rs to bless;
And, sometimes, seem'd to cross his hoped success,
But only seem'd, for oft the barren Scene
Soon wore a flowery garb, or livery green;
And fruit would sometimes flourish; sometimes fall;
But God still gave a Competence to all!
Both food and raiment, reasonable store;
His wants were few—His Family's not more—
For all those wicked wants were set aside
That flow from Fancy—Fashion—Lust, and Pride!
They never urg'd on Heav'n one impious pray'r
That they without God's Will more gifts might share;
But as Christ's word was pledg'd to clothe, and feed,
They patiently repress'd each needless Need;
While humble Hearts, and happy Spirits, felt
The gracious discipline His Gospel dealt—
And thus they liv'd by Faith, and not by Sight,
Experiencing, each Day, some sweet delight!
While Providence, alternate, frown'd or smil'd.
Sometimes appear'd his labouring pow'rs to bless;
And, sometimes, seem'd to cross his hoped success,
But only seem'd, for oft the barren Scene
Soon wore a flowery garb, or livery green;
And fruit would sometimes flourish; sometimes fall;
But God still gave a Competence to all!
Both food and raiment, reasonable store;
His wants were few—His Family's not more—
For all those wicked wants were set aside
That flow from Fancy—Fashion—Lust, and Pride!
They never urg'd on Heav'n one impious pray'r
That they without God's Will more gifts might share;
But as Christ's word was pledg'd to clothe, and feed,
They patiently repress'd each needless Need;
While humble Hearts, and happy Spirits, felt
The gracious discipline His Gospel dealt—
And thus they liv'd by Faith, and not by Sight,
Experiencing, each Day, some sweet delight!
Crispin, aforetime, in afflicted State,
Remote from Offspring, and his hapless Mate,
With persecuted—anxious—aching—heart,
While struck with strong emotions, plann'd as part
Of what his melancholic Muse design'd,
And since atchiev'd, to chear his murm'ring Mind!
Remote from Offspring, and his hapless Mate,
With persecuted—anxious—aching—heart,
While struck with strong emotions, plann'd as part
Of what his melancholic Muse design'd,
And since atchiev'd, to chear his murm'ring Mind!
Beneath God's provident inspection, then,
With conscious awe still exercis'd his Pen,
Regarding little what weak Man might say
Of Him—his Conduct—Life—or honest Lay—
And, still, impress'd with His pure presence, now,
Felt all his faculties, implicit, bow,
With warm Affection's ever-gracious glow,
The knowledge of His righteous Will to know,
And see, thus subject to that Holy Sight
Designs, and sentiments, might both be right—
Besought His Spirit ever would inspire
What Truth should tell, and Reason ought require;
And pray'd no fouler Influence might pervert
His Muse—Tongue—Purpose—Pen—to others hurt.
With conscious awe still exercis'd his Pen,
Regarding little what weak Man might say
Of Him—his Conduct—Life—or honest Lay—
And, still, impress'd with His pure presence, now,
Felt all his faculties, implicit, bow,
With warm Affection's ever-gracious glow,
The knowledge of His righteous Will to know,
And see, thus subject to that Holy Sight
Designs, and sentiments, might both be right—
Besought His Spirit ever would inspire
What Truth should tell, and Reason ought require;
And pray'd no fouler Influence might pervert
His Muse—Tongue—Purpose—Pen—to others hurt.
He never meant the curious Mind to stir
By what frail Nature loves, and Fools prefer—
What every unregenerate heart enjoys—
That Malice hopes, but purer Minds despise—
To see a Brother's, or a Sister's, Throne
Pull'd down, to add a Story to its own—
To feel the gross delight Self-preference gives
When some Superior's Fame no longer lives—
The spiteful pleasure Self-applause may yield
When conquer'd Rivals fly the hostile field.
These form'd no part of Crispin's pure design,
Nor e'er suggested one ungracious line;
But just to vindicate his virtuous Cause—
In pure support of Heav'n's most holy Laws—
And, that the moral project might produce
Among Mankind, some cautionary Use;
To scout some foible; some base fault correct—
And rectify, or cure, some gross neglect;
By sketching out a crude, but pious Plan,
For honouring God, and moralizing Man.
By what frail Nature loves, and Fools prefer—
What every unregenerate heart enjoys—
That Malice hopes, but purer Minds despise—
To see a Brother's, or a Sister's, Throne
Pull'd down, to add a Story to its own—
To feel the gross delight Self-preference gives
When some Superior's Fame no longer lives—
The spiteful pleasure Self-applause may yield
When conquer'd Rivals fly the hostile field.
These form'd no part of Crispin's pure design,
Nor e'er suggested one ungracious line;
But just to vindicate his virtuous Cause—
In pure support of Heav'n's most holy Laws—
And, that the moral project might produce
Among Mankind, some cautionary Use;
To scout some foible; some base fault correct—
And rectify, or cure, some gross neglect;
By sketching out a crude, but pious Plan,
For honouring God, and moralizing Man.
Full well his Soul by sad experience, knew
What Evils, in his Heart, spontaneous, grew;
And by their natural maxims urg'd the Mind
To shake off all the claims of Human kind;
While disappointed Pride with Passion swells,
Till ev'n against its God the Will rebels;
Like that infernal Imp, for ever curst!
Whose subtle Art seduc'd frail Man at first!
How mortified Self-Love's fierce Anger grows
Against impeaching Friends, and spiteful Foes!
How vile Revenge, and sullen Envy, lurk,
To carry on, unseen their sinful work!
How Self-Conceit will fancied Worth enlarge,
And Prejudices cheat, with specious charge,
While Passion's mists, enveloping the Mind,
Make Reason blunder, and the Judgment blind!
What Evils, in his Heart, spontaneous, grew;
And by their natural maxims urg'd the Mind
To shake off all the claims of Human kind;
While disappointed Pride with Passion swells,
Till ev'n against its God the Will rebels;
Like that infernal Imp, for ever curst!
Whose subtle Art seduc'd frail Man at first!
How mortified Self-Love's fierce Anger grows
Against impeaching Friends, and spiteful Foes!
How vile Revenge, and sullen Envy, lurk,
To carry on, unseen their sinful work!
How Self-Conceit will fancied Worth enlarge,
And Prejudices cheat, with specious charge,
While Passion's mists, enveloping the Mind,
Make Reason blunder, and the Judgment blind!
Still more, by errless Revelation taught
How evil Demons influence human thought—
Subjoin each selfish feeling, to suggest
How foul, and frequent, Ingrates have transgrest;
Exciting Passion, permanent, and strong,
To urge revenge for every fancied wrong—
While kindling up fell Doubts, and foul Desires,
To hide Heav'n's light with fumes from hellish Fires—
Labouring to blast all Influence from above,
And put out every spark of heavenly Love!
How evil Demons influence human thought—
Subjoin each selfish feeling, to suggest
How foul, and frequent, Ingrates have transgrest;
Exciting Passion, permanent, and strong,
To urge revenge for every fancied wrong—
While kindling up fell Doubts, and foul Desires,
To hide Heav'n's light with fumes from hellish Fires—
Labouring to blast all Influence from above,
And put out every spark of heavenly Love!
Where is the Sceptic who will, proudly, dare
To argue no such Influences are?
Boldly obliterate all the hellish list
And say such peccant Spirits ne'er exist?
Such doubts must Infidels themselves condemn
For crimes, which Christians would ascribe to Them:
For which of all the unbelieving Brood
Will urge his acts, and aims, are always good?
Or, with a mad audacity, maintain
His heart—words—actions—stand without a stain.
Did Passion, Lust, or Pride, ne'er once betray
To wander in some wild, or devious way?
Did Fancy ne'er in Folly, Whim, or Fun,
Excite some Deeds which Wisdom wish'd undone?
Did Will ne'er yield, thro' Envy, Pride, or Spite,
To aim—scheme—act—what Reason thought not right?
Ne'er work upon the tongue to speak one Word
That Sense found sinful—silly—or absurd?
Ne'er, in the Soul, one sordid Wish arise,
That Conscience might in calmer hour despise?
Imagination ne'er Desire indulge
That genuine Judgment never durst divulge?
Or black and blasphemous Idea start,
That, instant, terrified and tore the Heart?
While every fibre, in the trembling Frame,
With horror shook, and felt Hell's shriv'lling Flame!
To argue no such Influences are?
73
And say such peccant Spirits ne'er exist?
Such doubts must Infidels themselves condemn
For crimes, which Christians would ascribe to Them:
For which of all the unbelieving Brood
Will urge his acts, and aims, are always good?
Or, with a mad audacity, maintain
His heart—words—actions—stand without a stain.
Did Passion, Lust, or Pride, ne'er once betray
To wander in some wild, or devious way?
Did Fancy ne'er in Folly, Whim, or Fun,
Excite some Deeds which Wisdom wish'd undone?
Did Will ne'er yield, thro' Envy, Pride, or Spite,
To aim—scheme—act—what Reason thought not right?
Ne'er work upon the tongue to speak one Word
That Sense found sinful—silly—or absurd?
Ne'er, in the Soul, one sordid Wish arise,
That Conscience might in calmer hour despise?
Imagination ne'er Desire indulge
That genuine Judgment never durst divulge?
Or black and blasphemous Idea start,
That, instant, terrified and tore the Heart?
While every fibre, in the trembling Frame,
With horror shook, and felt Hell's shriv'lling Flame!
Whence do these vicious, vile, Affections flow?
From filthy Self, or from black Fiends below?
Or whence those foul, profane, Ideas rise
From Man's own bosom? or do Imps devise?
If such abominable mischiefs be
With all Men's Minds, in measure, or degree;
Then each must find itself a Knave, or Fool,
Or impure Spirits' unresisting Tool.
If their curs'd Influence is construed void,
Man's faults must flow from Passions—Lusts—or Pride—
And each convict Himself of every Crime
Conceiv'd, or acted, thro' his course of Time,
From filthy Self, or from black Fiends below?
Or whence those foul, profane, Ideas rise
From Man's own bosom? or do Imps devise?
If such abominable mischiefs be
With all Men's Minds, in measure, or degree;
Then each must find itself a Knave, or Fool,
Or impure Spirits' unresisting Tool.
If their curs'd Influence is construed void,
Man's faults must flow from Passions—Lusts—or Pride—
And each convict Himself of every Crime
Conceiv'd, or acted, thro' his course of Time,
Such vile Affections—such accursed thought
Were oft on Crispin's Frame, or Fancy wrought;
Prompting to wanton Word, or devilish deed,
Which made his eye-lids melt, his bosom bleed:
But when foul Wish, or fiery dart, was felt,
Before Heav'n's Mercy-seat he humbly knelt,
To plead for pardon thro' that Advocate,
On whom hung present peace, and future fate!
Were oft on Crispin's Frame, or Fancy wrought;
Prompting to wanton Word, or devilish deed,
Which made his eye-lids melt, his bosom bleed:
But when foul Wish, or fiery dart, was felt,
Before Heav'n's Mercy-seat he humbly knelt,
To plead for pardon thro' that Advocate,
On whom hung present peace, and future fate!
He knew that every hour's experience, blest,
Each happy thought that thrill'd the bounding breast;
Each wiser wish, and moral Mind's desire,
Which warm'd his feelings with celestial fire;
With every prospect, every hope, sublime,
That rais'd his heart above both Sense and Time;
Must from the Source of happiness descend
The Spirit of his Father—Lord and Friend!
Each happy thought that thrill'd the bounding breast;
Each wiser wish, and moral Mind's desire,
Which warm'd his feelings with celestial fire;
With every prospect, every hope, sublime,
That rais'd his heart above both Sense and Time;
Must from the Source of happiness descend
The Spirit of his Father—Lord and Friend!
Ye Scholars of Socinus mock not here,
Nor force, from Christian Minds these Maxims dear—
Deem not such Faith mad Phantasms or mere Dreams,
Which gave his gracious thoughts their gravest Themes.
How do the Scriptures, how doth Reason, prove
No heavenly Influence human Minds can move;
Or that pure Spirit, the prompt Soul implores,
Man's Pow'rs, and Privileges, ne'er restores?
Ne'er strengthens Reason, ne'er assists the Will,
To guide the Passions, or to keep them still;
Or helps their views and efforts to reduce
Pride—Passions—Appetites—to pristine use?
Ne'er fines Affections, or renews their force,
Tho' seeking daily at the sacred Source?
Will He, the Parent of the human Race
Refuse His Offspring needful gifts of Grace?
That glorious God, who rear'd, and rules, the Skies,
As good as great and willing as He's wise—
Will He, while blest with Wisdom's boundless Light
Leave His own Family in Nature's Night?
Possest of boundless Knowledge still deny
His christian Children who for Wisdom cry?
Doth He less love the Souls of Saints on Earth,
Than those who gave their groveling Bodies birth?
Will natural Parents, when pin'd Households moan,
Withhold their Bread, and give each Child a Stone?
When they, with ardent Bosoms, humbly beg,
Present a Scorpion when they ask an Egg?
Or, when they warmly supplicate for Fish.
Deal each a Serpent, or some poisonous Dish?
Nor force, from Christian Minds these Maxims dear—
Deem not such Faith mad Phantasms or mere Dreams,
Which gave his gracious thoughts their gravest Themes.
How do the Scriptures, how doth Reason, prove
No heavenly Influence human Minds can move;
Or that pure Spirit, the prompt Soul implores,
Man's Pow'rs, and Privileges, ne'er restores?
Ne'er strengthens Reason, ne'er assists the Will,
To guide the Passions, or to keep them still;
Or helps their views and efforts to reduce
Pride—Passions—Appetites—to pristine use?
Ne'er fines Affections, or renews their force,
Tho' seeking daily at the sacred Source?
Will He, the Parent of the human Race
Refuse His Offspring needful gifts of Grace?
That glorious God, who rear'd, and rules, the Skies,
As good as great and willing as He's wise—
Will He, while blest with Wisdom's boundless Light
Leave His own Family in Nature's Night?
Possest of boundless Knowledge still deny
His christian Children who for Wisdom cry?
Doth He less love the Souls of Saints on Earth,
Than those who gave their groveling Bodies birth?
Will natural Parents, when pin'd Households moan,
Withhold their Bread, and give each Child a Stone?
When they, with ardent Bosoms, humbly beg,
Present a Scorpion when they ask an Egg?
Or, when they warmly supplicate for Fish.
Deal each a Serpent, or some poisonous Dish?
If earthly Father then yield Nature's dues,
Will Love, itself, such gracious Gifts refuse,
While Offspring's daily Pray'rs, and pure Desires,
And Faith, and Hope, and Love that Love inspires!
Can He then mock the Wish His Word commands
To seek such Favours from His heavenly Hands!
Can He, Man's Maker—Saviour—Lord—divine—
Father, and Friend, His Progeny enjoin
To beg such Blessings; ask; and seek; and knock?
Yet still refuse them to His little Flock?
All pure conditions of His publish'd Will?
With promises to all who thus fulfil?
And all acknowledg'd as His written Word?
'Tis Foolish! impious! blasphemous! absurd!
Will Love, itself, such gracious Gifts refuse,
While Offspring's daily Pray'rs, and pure Desires,
And Faith, and Hope, and Love that Love inspires!
Can He then mock the Wish His Word commands
To seek such Favours from His heavenly Hands!
74
Father, and Friend, His Progeny enjoin
To beg such Blessings; ask; and seek; and knock?
Yet still refuse them to His little Flock?
All pure conditions of His publish'd Will?
With promises to all who thus fulfil?
And all acknowledg'd as His written Word?
'Tis Foolish! impious! blasphemous! absurd!
Is Christ unwilling? Is His Grace grown weak?
Or would such System His first bias break?
Can Matter's mutual particles impinge,
Or, on each other, intimately, hinge;
Or, put in motion by some pow'rful sway,
Move every mass of Matter in its way,
Till, by some Spirit's pow'r, again, imprest,
It reassumes, inert, its natural rest?
And cannot Spirit, thus, on Spirit act,
By innate pow'r, or by some mutual pact?
May not the Maker of each human Soul
Impel to action, or its acts controul?
Or will the Governor of Nature grutch
With His pure Spirit Man's prone Mind to touch?
Doth He, indifferent, look on all below?
His Offspring's Ignorance? Weakness? Want? and Woe?
Nor let His Love—His Goodness—or His Grace—
Compassionate, and help, the ruin'd Race?
But like an idle, arbitrary, Turk,
Despise, neglect, or hate, His Handy-work;
And haughtily refuse His help to reach
To guard, to guide, to strengthen, or to teach?
Or, is it in the fancied Book of Fate,
No Pow'r on human Minds can operate!
Not even His who form'd all Nature's Frame,
Who gave all Life, and can all Life reclaim?
Crispin found written in Heav'n's favourite Book,
In which his eye would oft delight to look,
His mental eye, which markt the converse clear,
As written with meridian sunbeams there.
Or would such System His first bias break?
Can Matter's mutual particles impinge,
Or, on each other, intimately, hinge;
Or, put in motion by some pow'rful sway,
Move every mass of Matter in its way,
Till, by some Spirit's pow'r, again, imprest,
It reassumes, inert, its natural rest?
And cannot Spirit, thus, on Spirit act,
By innate pow'r, or by some mutual pact?
May not the Maker of each human Soul
Impel to action, or its acts controul?
Or will the Governor of Nature grutch
With His pure Spirit Man's prone Mind to touch?
Doth He, indifferent, look on all below?
His Offspring's Ignorance? Weakness? Want? and Woe?
Nor let His Love—His Goodness—or His Grace—
Compassionate, and help, the ruin'd Race?
But like an idle, arbitrary, Turk,
Despise, neglect, or hate, His Handy-work;
And haughtily refuse His help to reach
To guard, to guide, to strengthen, or to teach?
Or, is it in the fancied Book of Fate,
No Pow'r on human Minds can operate!
Not even His who form'd all Nature's Frame,
Who gave all Life, and can all Life reclaim?
Crispin found written in Heav'n's favourite Book,
In which his eye would oft delight to look,
His mental eye, which markt the converse clear,
As written with meridian sunbeams there.
Fill'd with such Faith how could His heart avoid
To beg that help against base Lust and Pride;
And that His Light would lead both Mind and Pen,
To honour Christ and counsel mortal Men.
What Sentiments and Truths, well understood,
When practis'd might produce the greatest Good.
How blessed Faith, and Hope, and Peace, below,
Pure Spirit may on peccant Minds bestow;
Rich Comforts, Unbelievers ne'er behold,
And Consolations, here, an hundred-fold;
With all the boundless Happiness above,
That springs from perfect Holiness and Love!
To beg that help against base Lust and Pride;
And that His Light would lead both Mind and Pen,
To honour Christ and counsel mortal Men.
What Sentiments and Truths, well understood,
When practis'd might produce the greatest Good.
How blessed Faith, and Hope, and Peace, below,
Pure Spirit may on peccant Minds bestow;
Rich Comforts, Unbelievers ne'er behold,
And Consolations, here, an hundred-fold;
With all the boundless Happiness above,
That springs from perfect Holiness and Love!
He strove not, by his mental toils, alone,
To make his gnawing cares, and conflicts, known—
Not by satyric labours to obtain
One soul, unsanctified, of graceless gain;
Or some frail edifice of Rhyme to raise,
With weakly hope, to win perpetual praise;
Much less with Spite and Malice to asperse
One virtuous Character with vicious Verse—
Not ev'n to castigate that cruel Heart
Which pierc'd his own, so oft, with pungent smart—
And what's far worse, his Children's bosoms tore,
While Daphne's Heart still felt its miseries more!
Yet when his wounded Soul was deeply griev'd,
In God's blest Government his Mind believ'd;
Which kept his irritable strains from sight,
Till Her perturbed Spirit left the light.
To make his gnawing cares, and conflicts, known—
Not by satyric labours to obtain
One soul, unsanctified, of graceless gain;
Or some frail edifice of Rhyme to raise,
With weakly hope, to win perpetual praise;
Much less with Spite and Malice to asperse
One virtuous Character with vicious Verse—
Not ev'n to castigate that cruel Heart
Which pierc'd his own, so oft, with pungent smart—
And what's far worse, his Children's bosoms tore,
While Daphne's Heart still felt its miseries more!
Yet when his wounded Soul was deeply griev'd,
In God's blest Government his Mind believ'd;
Which kept his irritable strains from sight,
Till Her perturbed Spirit left the light.
Meantime his Heart's pure pathos, oft implor'd
The God he worshipp'd—honour'd—lov'd—ador'd—
That Heart to actuate—influence—guide—and guard—
His Will to stimulate, or Work retard—
Each favourite view to frustrate, or fulfil,
Accordant with His own unerring Will.
That His pure Spirit would those Pow'rs withhold
Self-love might sacrifice to Fame, or Gold;
Or pain, or pleasure, in one Heart produce
But for His Glory, and their gracious Use.
The God he worshipp'd—honour'd—lov'd—ador'd—
That Heart to actuate—influence—guide—and guard—
His Will to stimulate, or Work retard—
Each favourite view to frustrate, or fulfil,
Accordant with His own unerring Will.
That His pure Spirit would those Pow'rs withhold
Self-love might sacrifice to Fame, or Gold;
Or pain, or pleasure, in one Heart produce
But for His Glory, and their gracious Use.
This was his humble Muse's utmost scope,
Prayer of his Heart, and anchor of his Hope;
Endeavouring, as his Saviour saw most meet
To give him strength and guide his doubtful feet,
To drop some blest reproof—redress some wrong,
At every step he pass'd, Life's paths along!
A rugged Road, for him, and all his Brood,
With virtuous motives urg'd, in varying mood;
Hard struggling on, thro' all their hours, or Years,
Amidst misfortunes, blessings, hopes, or fears;
Still persevering, still by patience, blest;
While pious feelings, brac'd each faithful breast!
With happiest Christian principles at heart,
Each aim'd to act Life's most important part;
And hourly watch'd, and labour'd, hard, to bind
Pride—Passions—Lusts—which strove to turn the Mind—
Tho' in the ever-varying Scenes of Life,
Mid moral Ill, and elemental Strife,
Which agitate the heart, thro' Soul, or Sense;
Will give the grateful feelings, oft, offence—
Some rude events will every hour arise,
To darken hope, or damp expected joys!
Prayer of his Heart, and anchor of his Hope;
Endeavouring, as his Saviour saw most meet
To give him strength and guide his doubtful feet,
To drop some blest reproof—redress some wrong,
At every step he pass'd, Life's paths along!
A rugged Road, for him, and all his Brood,
With virtuous motives urg'd, in varying mood;
Hard struggling on, thro' all their hours, or Years,
Amidst misfortunes, blessings, hopes, or fears;
Still persevering, still by patience, blest;
While pious feelings, brac'd each faithful breast!
With happiest Christian principles at heart,
Each aim'd to act Life's most important part;
75
Pride—Passions—Lusts—which strove to turn the Mind—
Tho' in the ever-varying Scenes of Life,
Mid moral Ill, and elemental Strife,
Which agitate the heart, thro' Soul, or Sense;
Will give the grateful feelings, oft, offence—
Some rude events will every hour arise,
To darken hope, or damp expected joys!
What meditating Mind would think it strange
Affections—Passions—and Pursuits, should change,
And sometimes deviate from the right-lin'd road,
Sketch'd out, by Christ, in Heav'n's clear, sacred Code?
A track no Christian e'er completely trod,
Ev'n by His help, tho' perfect Man, and God!
But, absent from His Spirit's heavenly light,
Could ne'er direct one single footstep right!
Yet, whether sunny robes the World array'd,
Or cloudy meteors mix'd their densest shade—
Whether high febrile heats inflam'd his blood,
Or freezing cold restrain'd the tardy flood—
Whatever Visions, or Events, were new,
He kept God's glory, and Man's good, in view.
And tho' his present prospect might appear
Impressively unprosperous, dark, and drear,
Still 'twas with happier Objects interspers'd,
That Piety brought forth, and Morals nurs'd;
Which Truth reveal'd, in all their heavenly charms,
And Virtue fondled in her fostering arms;
Diffusing thro' his Heart those rapturous Joys
Which can, alone, in Christian Souls arise!
Affections—Passions—and Pursuits, should change,
And sometimes deviate from the right-lin'd road,
Sketch'd out, by Christ, in Heav'n's clear, sacred Code?
A track no Christian e'er completely trod,
Ev'n by His help, tho' perfect Man, and God!
But, absent from His Spirit's heavenly light,
Could ne'er direct one single footstep right!
Yet, whether sunny robes the World array'd,
Or cloudy meteors mix'd their densest shade—
Whether high febrile heats inflam'd his blood,
Or freezing cold restrain'd the tardy flood—
Whatever Visions, or Events, were new,
He kept God's glory, and Man's good, in view.
And tho' his present prospect might appear
Impressively unprosperous, dark, and drear,
Still 'twas with happier Objects interspers'd,
That Piety brought forth, and Morals nurs'd;
Which Truth reveal'd, in all their heavenly charms,
And Virtue fondled in her fostering arms;
Diffusing thro' his Heart those rapturous Joys
Which can, alone, in Christian Souls arise!
Who then could doubt in such a serious Cause,
Forbid by neither Heav'n's, or human, Laws;
When Truth still warranted the righteous task
Of stripping Fashion's coils, and Custom's mask,
While Justice follow'd, with commanding force,
To stop Hypocrisy's and Falshood's course—
When moral Virtue made the Muse her choice
To check the progress of imperious Vice,
While Reason strove with Ostentation's Train
To vanquish Folly and correct the Vain;
And Piety by Pray'r had hop'd, in all,
That Heav'n would hear, and sanction ev'ry Call,
Forbid by neither Heav'n's, or human, Laws;
When Truth still warranted the righteous task
Of stripping Fashion's coils, and Custom's mask,
While Justice follow'd, with commanding force,
To stop Hypocrisy's and Falshood's course—
When moral Virtue made the Muse her choice
To check the progress of imperious Vice,
While Reason strove with Ostentation's Train
To vanquish Folly and correct the Vain;
And Piety by Pray'r had hop'd, in all,
That Heav'n would hear, and sanction ev'ry Call,
Who could, with such precautions, e'er surmise
Christ would withhold His Covenant-supplies?
The God of boundless Grace refuse fresh Dow'rs,
To lighten, and enlarge, his pristine Pow'rs!
He ne'er denies assistance to that Soul
Which constant seeks, and asks, His kind controul;
And strives to regulate each word, and way,
By rules His written documents display.
Christ would withhold His Covenant-supplies?
The God of boundless Grace refuse fresh Dow'rs,
To lighten, and enlarge, his pristine Pow'rs!
He ne'er denies assistance to that Soul
Which constant seeks, and asks, His kind controul;
And strives to regulate each word, and way,
By rules His written documents display.
Embolden'd by this hope of heavenly Light
He still pursued the Path which pointed right,
Proceeding every day in Duty's Road,
As Providence the Time and Strength bestow'd—
Incessantly beseeching Heav'n's best Meed
Thro' tracks of Love his Intellect to lead;
And all those mental faculties restrain
Whose views were vicious, or their objects vain—
To frustrate, or confound, each abject Aim
That sought Revenge—Vain-glory—Wealth—or Fame.
He still pursued the Path which pointed right,
Proceeding every day in Duty's Road,
As Providence the Time and Strength bestow'd—
Incessantly beseeching Heav'n's best Meed
Thro' tracks of Love his Intellect to lead;
And all those mental faculties restrain
Whose views were vicious, or their objects vain—
To frustrate, or confound, each abject Aim
That sought Revenge—Vain-glory—Wealth—or Fame.
He never thought, before this Theme began,
His feeble Pow'rs could frame a faultless Plan—
Ne'er let enthusiastic, vain, Self-love
Expect unerring helps from Pow'rs above—
Ne'er suffer'd Superstitious, crude Conceit
To hope his Pow'rs could make such Plan complete;
Nor, weakly, when the Scheme was clos'd, conceiv'd
His Labours had a blameless Work achiev'd;
Or, that the choicest of his chosen Lays
Might challenge from each Churl implicit Praise.
No! well aware the gracious Gifts of Heav'n
Ne'er set aside, on Earth, all human Leav'n,
But, in the Soul, still suffer some Alloy
To pinion Pride, and damp injurious Joy—
To turn attention; keep Affection fixt
On that pure Place where Raptures reign, unmixt—
Lest Man's fall'n carnal Nature should forget
His fearful Doom from first Forefather's Debt;
With pains and penalties Himself deserves,
When from the Rules of Heav'n his Reason swerves;
Resting on frail Delights each false Desire,
Whose objects and enjoyments must expire!
His feeble Pow'rs could frame a faultless Plan—
Ne'er let enthusiastic, vain, Self-love
Expect unerring helps from Pow'rs above—
Ne'er suffer'd Superstitious, crude Conceit
To hope his Pow'rs could make such Plan complete;
Nor, weakly, when the Scheme was clos'd, conceiv'd
His Labours had a blameless Work achiev'd;
Or, that the choicest of his chosen Lays
Might challenge from each Churl implicit Praise.
No! well aware the gracious Gifts of Heav'n
Ne'er set aside, on Earth, all human Leav'n,
But, in the Soul, still suffer some Alloy
To pinion Pride, and damp injurious Joy—
To turn attention; keep Affection fixt
On that pure Place where Raptures reign, unmixt—
Lest Man's fall'n carnal Nature should forget
His fearful Doom from first Forefather's Debt;
With pains and penalties Himself deserves,
When from the Rules of Heav'n his Reason swerves;
Resting on frail Delights each false Desire,
Whose objects and enjoyments must expire!
Still he was warranted some good might grow
Thro' breaking others thoughts from things below—
From firm endeavours to excite disgust
Against idolatrous and worldly Lust—
From tearing off trim Vanity's disguise,
And battering down base refuges of Lies—
From combating that curs'd, blind, mad, mistake,
Which need must make all hearts, like his, to ache,
Whose folly, trusting to an arm of flesh,
Would crucify the Lord of Life afresh;
While choosing any Child of Man, as Chief,
To feed the Frame, or guard the Heart from grief.
Thro' breaking others thoughts from things below—
From firm endeavours to excite disgust
Against idolatrous and worldly Lust—
From tearing off trim Vanity's disguise,
And battering down base refuges of Lies—
From combating that curs'd, blind, mad, mistake,
Which need must make all hearts, like his, to ache,
Whose folly, trusting to an arm of flesh,
76
While choosing any Child of Man, as Chief,
To feed the Frame, or guard the Heart from grief.
He could not doubt some benefits might spring
From conning faults, or follies, in a King—
Not fearing loss of favour, or disgrace,
From regal rule or all the courtly Race
But, boldly, all his little lightnings hurl'd,
Against mock Giants in this modern World—
Who dar'd so exercise tyrannic rod
O'er groaning Slaves, and grasp the rights of God—
Whose Will, each instant, with resistless Fate,
Could Kings—could Realms—yea, Worlds annihilate!
From conning faults, or follies, in a King—
Not fearing loss of favour, or disgrace,
From regal rule or all the courtly Race
But, boldly, all his little lightnings hurl'd,
Against mock Giants in this modern World—
Who dar'd so exercise tyrannic rod
O'er groaning Slaves, and grasp the rights of God—
Whose Will, each instant, with resistless Fate,
Could Kings—could Realms—yea, Worlds annihilate!
He stated propositions right, and true,
Whilst love for all his Kind was kept in view,
And His high honour whose transpiercing sight
Beheld all motives in full blaze of light;
Full well convinc'd, should he, unduteous, dare
Commit a Crime, tho' Patience, now, might spare;
Yet would all devious views be clear discust,
When he, and all Mankind, emerge from dust;
And this Essay, with all its Meanings, meet
A genuine Sentence at Christ's Judgment-seat!
Whilst love for all his Kind was kept in view,
And His high honour whose transpiercing sight
Beheld all motives in full blaze of light;
Full well convinc'd, should he, unduteous, dare
Commit a Crime, tho' Patience, now, might spare;
Yet would all devious views be clear discust,
When he, and all Mankind, emerge from dust;
And this Essay, with all its Meanings, meet
A genuine Sentence at Christ's Judgment-seat!
But most he hoped some greater good might rise,
Among the Mass which Kings and Courts despise—
The lowly Mass, which, like himself, unknown,
Wish no frail influence from an earthly Throne—
Implore no Pow'r nor supplicate low Pelf,
To gratify false Pride, or fleshly Self;
But that some solid kindness might extend
To those who want, but find no useful Friend;
Believing, still, with humbly hoping hearts
All tends to good God's Providence imparts—
While he in honest rustic strains rehears'd
Why Man with poverty, and pain, was curs'd;
And why, tho' thus continuing poor, and pain'd,
God's perfect Justice, still by Grace restrain'd,
Will Lend a light, and shelter with a Shield,
To show their path, and prompt protection yield;
That Christians, in a wicked World, like this,
May every spirit-piercing misery miss,
While tasting intellectual bliss, below,
Piqu'd Pow'r, and wretched Riches, never know;
And, in a purely-perfect future State,
Avoid the vicious Tyrants vengeful Fate—
Not hoping to escape all conflicts, here,
Of Crosses—cloudy Hopes—and painful Fear;
For well he knew that Envy, Lust, and Pride,
To every State, and Stage, of Life allied,
Must mortify Christ's Followers every hour,
While subject to fall'n Nature's peccant Pow'r,
A Syren World's insinuating airs,
With Satan's hostile Troops, and subtle snares.
Among the Mass which Kings and Courts despise—
The lowly Mass, which, like himself, unknown,
Wish no frail influence from an earthly Throne—
Implore no Pow'r nor supplicate low Pelf,
To gratify false Pride, or fleshly Self;
But that some solid kindness might extend
To those who want, but find no useful Friend;
Believing, still, with humbly hoping hearts
All tends to good God's Providence imparts—
While he in honest rustic strains rehears'd
Why Man with poverty, and pain, was curs'd;
And why, tho' thus continuing poor, and pain'd,
God's perfect Justice, still by Grace restrain'd,
Will Lend a light, and shelter with a Shield,
To show their path, and prompt protection yield;
That Christians, in a wicked World, like this,
May every spirit-piercing misery miss,
While tasting intellectual bliss, below,
Piqu'd Pow'r, and wretched Riches, never know;
And, in a purely-perfect future State,
Avoid the vicious Tyrants vengeful Fate—
Not hoping to escape all conflicts, here,
Of Crosses—cloudy Hopes—and painful Fear;
For well he knew that Envy, Lust, and Pride,
To every State, and Stage, of Life allied,
Must mortify Christ's Followers every hour,
While subject to fall'n Nature's peccant Pow'r,
A Syren World's insinuating airs,
With Satan's hostile Troops, and subtle snares.
He wish'd to warn them battles must be fought
With froward Will, and wandering thwarting Thought;
Still struggling with each strong besetting Sin
In all that woo'd without, and work'd within.
To combat Fiends, with Forces from beneath,
Each hour the Spirit's shining sword unsheath—
Use helmet—shield—and breast-plate—to repel
Their fiery darts, all dipt in flames of Hell—
Must every day hostilities declare
Against the pow'rful Prince of Earth and Air,
Who governs as a God—and rules, and reigns,
O'er all the Fools that fill his dark Domains;
Not only o'er the heedless, ignorant, Groups,
Which constitute, in Crowds, his lighter Troops,
His banners to unfurl, his sceptre stretch,
A Monarch own'd by each immoral Wretch!
Not, merely Vicious—Volatile—and Vain—
The greedy, drunken, and adulterous, Train—
The petty Despot, or unthinking Thief—
The chousing Minister, and murderous Chief;
But every courtly Tool, and tyrant King,
Who at his Altars bend, and offerings bring;
With all the Hypocrites' most wicked Race
Heav'n's rights usurping in superior Place;
All impious Priests, and High-priests, deem'd divine,
Who daily worship at his Idol-shrine;
Thro' Time permitted secondary sway,
His prisoners, now—ere long his proper prey!
With froward Will, and wandering thwarting Thought;
Still struggling with each strong besetting Sin
In all that woo'd without, and work'd within.
To combat Fiends, with Forces from beneath,
Each hour the Spirit's shining sword unsheath—
Use helmet—shield—and breast-plate—to repel
Their fiery darts, all dipt in flames of Hell—
Must every day hostilities declare
Against the pow'rful Prince of Earth and Air,
Who governs as a God—and rules, and reigns,
O'er all the Fools that fill his dark Domains;
Not only o'er the heedless, ignorant, Groups,
Which constitute, in Crowds, his lighter Troops,
His banners to unfurl, his sceptre stretch,
A Monarch own'd by each immoral Wretch!
Not, merely Vicious—Volatile—and Vain—
The greedy, drunken, and adulterous, Train—
The petty Despot, or unthinking Thief—
The chousing Minister, and murderous Chief;
But every courtly Tool, and tyrant King,
Who at his Altars bend, and offerings bring;
With all the Hypocrites' most wicked Race
Heav'n's rights usurping in superior Place;
All impious Priests, and High-priests, deem'd divine,
Who daily worship at his Idol-shrine;
Thro' Time permitted secondary sway,
His prisoners, now—ere long his proper prey!
Yet think not, Ye, possest of temporal Pow'r,
Who with the Beast and Dragon, reign your Hour,
Crispinus aim'd to rouze the abject Breed,
Provok'd with Insult, and opprest with Need,
From Duty to withdraw—to storm your Doors—
Attack your Persons, or purloin your Stores—
But o'er their Lusts, and Passions, to prevail,
Performing Compacts, tho' You, Courtiers, fail—
And sooner suffer wrong, from Fraud, or Force,
Than Conscience wound, or quit their Christain Course,
Still tendering all that Law decrees as due,
To righteous Heav'n, and to unrighteous You!
Their heavenly Master's footsteps still to mark,
Lit by his Spirit's pure celestial spark;
And in those footsteps diligently tread,
Tho' persecuted like their patient Head,
Rather than, rashly, by resisting Ill,
To counteract His holy Word, and Will—
Ev'n stoop to despot Kings' oppressive claim,
Sooner than sully their transcendent Name!
Who with the Beast and Dragon, reign your Hour,
Crispinus aim'd to rouze the abject Breed,
Provok'd with Insult, and opprest with Need,
From Duty to withdraw—to storm your Doors—
Attack your Persons, or purloin your Stores—
But o'er their Lusts, and Passions, to prevail,
Performing Compacts, tho' You, Courtiers, fail—
And sooner suffer wrong, from Fraud, or Force,
Than Conscience wound, or quit their Christain Course,
77
To righteous Heav'n, and to unrighteous You!
Their heavenly Master's footsteps still to mark,
Lit by his Spirit's pure celestial spark;
And in those footsteps diligently tread,
Tho' persecuted like their patient Head,
Rather than, rashly, by resisting Ill,
To counteract His holy Word, and Will—
Ev'n stoop to despot Kings' oppressive claim,
Sooner than sully their transcendent Name!
But, tho' he would preserve Religion pure,
And, for the Saviour's sake, all Ills endure;
Yet would he ne'er from Truth restrain his Pen
While Justice was o'erset by sordid Men—
Ne'er fawn with looks, or flatter with his tongue,
While Courtiers' frauds confounded right and wrong—
Indifferent note false Dupes foul pleas produce,
To institute, or sanction, base abuse—
Turn not conniving, cunning, looks aside,
To countenance Oppression, Craft, or Pride;
Nor Wink while Scoundrels—Villains—Knaves—collogue,
To hide the faults of every Fellow-Rogue;
Much less, himself, for courtly Libels plead,
That manacle the Free, and Tools mislead!
Or quench pure Reason's light like papal Rome,
Which tends to bring, again, black, Pagan, gloom!
Right Reason's dawn, like Revelation's day,
Was kindled by the same celestial Ray.
By Reason rul'd, each Clown throughout the crowd
Marks Truth and Justice, maugre Custom's cloud;
And Revelation's beams, which brighter shine,
Deign him sufficient light for Things divine;
Not Meant to wake Imagination warm
To shape conceptions in unfinished form;
But where the purblind Understanding blinkt
To picture Heav'n's eternal Things distinct.
To amplify and clear the mental scale,
And help where human Faculties must fail,
By representing objects more sublime
Than those that fill the sphere of Sense, and time.
Not only everlasting Things to scan,
And strengthening all the abstract Pow'rs of Man;
To estimate, by measure, worth, and weight,
What appertains to Heav'n's eternal State,
And urge to ask that Spirit's aid by pray'r
Who moulds the Mind and Heart Heav'n's joys to share,
By kindling in the Soul that holy Love
Which yields angelic bliss to Saints above.
Not superseding Conscience, first bestow'd
To guide rude Mortals thro' Time's mazey road—
Not supernaturally those Truths to teach
Which pristine Pow'rs could competently reach;
Nor Notions, Precepts, Apophthegms, explain,
Which natural Reason's efforts might attain.
And, for the Saviour's sake, all Ills endure;
Yet would he ne'er from Truth restrain his Pen
While Justice was o'erset by sordid Men—
Ne'er fawn with looks, or flatter with his tongue,
While Courtiers' frauds confounded right and wrong—
Indifferent note false Dupes foul pleas produce,
To institute, or sanction, base abuse—
Turn not conniving, cunning, looks aside,
To countenance Oppression, Craft, or Pride;
Nor Wink while Scoundrels—Villains—Knaves—collogue,
To hide the faults of every Fellow-Rogue;
Much less, himself, for courtly Libels plead,
That manacle the Free, and Tools mislead!
Or quench pure Reason's light like papal Rome,
Which tends to bring, again, black, Pagan, gloom!
Right Reason's dawn, like Revelation's day,
Was kindled by the same celestial Ray.
By Reason rul'd, each Clown throughout the crowd
Marks Truth and Justice, maugre Custom's cloud;
And Revelation's beams, which brighter shine,
Deign him sufficient light for Things divine;
Not Meant to wake Imagination warm
To shape conceptions in unfinished form;
But where the purblind Understanding blinkt
To picture Heav'n's eternal Things distinct.
To amplify and clear the mental scale,
And help where human Faculties must fail,
By representing objects more sublime
Than those that fill the sphere of Sense, and time.
Not only everlasting Things to scan,
And strengthening all the abstract Pow'rs of Man;
To estimate, by measure, worth, and weight,
What appertains to Heav'n's eternal State,
And urge to ask that Spirit's aid by pray'r
Who moulds the Mind and Heart Heav'n's joys to share,
By kindling in the Soul that holy Love
Which yields angelic bliss to Saints above.
Not superseding Conscience, first bestow'd
To guide rude Mortals thro' Time's mazey road—
Not supernaturally those Truths to teach
Which pristine Pow'rs could competently reach;
Nor Notions, Precepts, Apophthegms, explain,
Which natural Reason's efforts might attain.
'Tis Reason's office fully to define,
The virtuous leadings of each varied line,
To trace each labyrinthine moral maze,
Whose puzzling path blind Ignorance oft betrays—
To pry with piercing ken thro' Custom's cloud,
And strip disguising Fashion's dazzling shroud—
Turn superstition's raven veil aside,
Which would eternal Truth, and Justice hide.
Truth's stable cleanse, with Herculean toil,
So fill'd by sordid Rogues with filthy Soil.
Show how, when taught in Machiavelian Schools,
Bigots become proud Politicians' Tools;
Who make the clownish, Multitude condemn
The simplest axioms, when decried by Them;
Pronouncing Sophistry most meet, and fit,
Which contradicts clear Sense, and sacred Writ.
The virtuous leadings of each varied line,
To trace each labyrinthine moral maze,
Whose puzzling path blind Ignorance oft betrays—
To pry with piercing ken thro' Custom's cloud,
And strip disguising Fashion's dazzling shroud—
Turn superstition's raven veil aside,
Which would eternal Truth, and Justice hide.
Truth's stable cleanse, with Herculean toil,
So fill'd by sordid Rogues with filthy Soil.
Show how, when taught in Machiavelian Schools,
Bigots become proud Politicians' Tools;
Who make the clownish, Multitude condemn
The simplest axioms, when decried by Them;
Pronouncing Sophistry most meet, and fit,
Which contradicts clear Sense, and sacred Writ.
He never meant Man's Reason should oppose
What Revelation's documents disclose;
Yet, when disjointed parts appear to jar,
The case must come before her final Bar;
And, where they're silent, as the surest Guide,
The Suit, when dubious, or obscure, decide.
What Revelation's documents disclose;
Yet, when disjointed parts appear to jar,
The case must come before her final Bar;
And, where they're silent, as the surest Guide,
The Suit, when dubious, or obscure, decide.
What is right Reason? 'Tis but natural, still,
Its earthly office, first, to teach the Will,
In things that appertain to Sense, and Time,
Till Heav'n reveal'd its maxims more sublime;
And then those Doctrines, Truths, and Facts, defend,
Against each impious Foe, or ignorant Friend—
Proclaim God's glory, with Life's latest breath,
In spite of Prisons—Dungeons—Chains—and Death!
Its earthly office, first, to teach the Will,
In things that appertain to Sense, and Time,
Till Heav'n reveal'd its maxims more sublime;
And then those Doctrines, Truths, and Facts, defend,
Against each impious Foe, or ignorant Friend—
Proclaim God's glory, with Life's latest breath,
In spite of Prisons—Dungeons—Chains—and Death!
When Reason shapes Hypothesis, or Plan,
'Tis but the Wisdom, still, of mortal Man;
And Theory, or Scheme, must, first, be form'd,
When apt Imagination's pow'rs are warm'd,
While every Object's lineaments are made
By teeming Fancy's prompt, and plastic, aid.
Tho' deep it pry, and diligently plod,
It ne'er can fully grasp one Work of God!
Tho' it can pierce the Earth, and plumb the Sky,
Its views ne'er can with vast Omniscience vie!
Its temporal task with heav'nly help ne'er fill,
Much less conceive, or compass all Heav'n's Will!
Can simply scan the Things of Time and Sense;
Not span the Scheme of Christ's pure Providence!
'Tis amply competent to trace the Clue,
Tho' mixt, in what fall'n Man may say, or do;
But ne'er develop all the Plan design'd
By boundless—uncreated—prescient—Mind!
Can mark by His communicated Light,
In all Acts—Words—and Thoughts, what's wrong, and right,
Nor ought to Falshood, Flattery, Fashion, stoop,
Tho' countenanc'd by learn'd, or courtly, Troop.
Thus while it keeps alive Heav'n's kindled spark,
Fools only deem, 'tis absolutely dark!
Yet Wit, and Wisdom, Folly's shame to shun,
Will say 'tis heavenly Moonshine, not the Sun—
Not suffer Pride to praise its feeble glow,
Beyond Heav'n's brighter beams which blaze below;
But like a Lamp, or Candle, keep its place,
To light Man's Mind with Truths of terrene Race.
It ne'er could thus discover Things like those
Which Revelation's clearer Lights disclose.
It never can create, by innate act,
One single Feeling, or one simple Fact—
Nor dive thro' depths of Providence, to plumb,
Or impiously pronounce on Things to come.
The Gift was granted, that Man might compare,
The chords, or discords, of those Things that are—
The fitness, or unfitness, fully clear,
Among facts—testimonies—maxims—here.
'Tis but the Wisdom, still, of mortal Man;
And Theory, or Scheme, must, first, be form'd,
When apt Imagination's pow'rs are warm'd,
78
By teeming Fancy's prompt, and plastic, aid.
Tho' deep it pry, and diligently plod,
It ne'er can fully grasp one Work of God!
Tho' it can pierce the Earth, and plumb the Sky,
Its views ne'er can with vast Omniscience vie!
Its temporal task with heav'nly help ne'er fill,
Much less conceive, or compass all Heav'n's Will!
Can simply scan the Things of Time and Sense;
Not span the Scheme of Christ's pure Providence!
'Tis amply competent to trace the Clue,
Tho' mixt, in what fall'n Man may say, or do;
But ne'er develop all the Plan design'd
By boundless—uncreated—prescient—Mind!
Can mark by His communicated Light,
In all Acts—Words—and Thoughts, what's wrong, and right,
Nor ought to Falshood, Flattery, Fashion, stoop,
Tho' countenanc'd by learn'd, or courtly, Troop.
Thus while it keeps alive Heav'n's kindled spark,
Fools only deem, 'tis absolutely dark!
Yet Wit, and Wisdom, Folly's shame to shun,
Will say 'tis heavenly Moonshine, not the Sun—
Not suffer Pride to praise its feeble glow,
Beyond Heav'n's brighter beams which blaze below;
But like a Lamp, or Candle, keep its place,
To light Man's Mind with Truths of terrene Race.
It ne'er could thus discover Things like those
Which Revelation's clearer Lights disclose.
It never can create, by innate act,
One single Feeling, or one simple Fact—
Nor dive thro' depths of Providence, to plumb,
Or impiously pronounce on Things to come.
The Gift was granted, that Man might compare,
The chords, or discords, of those Things that are—
The fitness, or unfitness, fully clear,
Among facts—testimonies—maxims—here.
But must We then impugn that heav'nly Light,
And say with Sophs, or Novices, it's Night?
Let Knaves, and Fools, its radiant influence flout,
And aim with impious breath to blow it out.
Extinguishers of polish'd brass put o'er,
So that its sacred rays may shine no more;
Or, when extinct, with self-sufficient Airs,
Proudly presume to kindle light at Theirs.
No! let Possessors, by its heav'n-born beams,
Avoid each Vice, and Politics' extremes;
That would to Misery fall, or Madness fly,
By scorning Codes transmitted from the Sky!
Not putting out those pure celestial rays,
Then call Court-Coxcombs to point out their Ways;
Whose crackling flambeaux blaze is most unmeet
To guide weak Travellers' unskilful feet;
While selfish prospects prompt them to advise
Dark, devious, tracks, with trite, fallacious, lies;
Till, at Pride's—Appetite's—or Passion's, call,
In some deep fatal ditch both foully fall!
And say with Sophs, or Novices, it's Night?
Let Knaves, and Fools, its radiant influence flout,
And aim with impious breath to blow it out.
Extinguishers of polish'd brass put o'er,
So that its sacred rays may shine no more;
Or, when extinct, with self-sufficient Airs,
Proudly presume to kindle light at Theirs.
No! let Possessors, by its heav'n-born beams,
Avoid each Vice, and Politics' extremes;
That would to Misery fall, or Madness fly,
By scorning Codes transmitted from the Sky!
Not putting out those pure celestial rays,
Then call Court-Coxcombs to point out their Ways;
Whose crackling flambeaux blaze is most unmeet
To guide weak Travellers' unskilful feet;
While selfish prospects prompt them to advise
Dark, devious, tracks, with trite, fallacious, lies;
Till, at Pride's—Appetite's—or Passion's, call,
In some deep fatal ditch both foully fall!
Tho' Crispin, thus, with Tyrants dar'd contend,
Obedient Order still found him a Friend;
For while he strove each Duty to fulfil
He urg'd pure Order—Truth, and Justice, still.
Tho' lawless strife he labour'd to restrain,
Yet judg'd consistent Christians might complain—
And whether Property were more, or less,
Ought use all fair endeavour for redress—
Not mov'd by foolish fear, or ignorant ruth,
To sacrifice the cause of sacred Truth;
Or so blind Bigots superstition trust,
Injustice dreading, to become unjust;
For all who at injustice dare connive
Conspire to keep improper Pow'rs alive!
Obedient Order still found him a Friend;
For while he strove each Duty to fulfil
He urg'd pure Order—Truth, and Justice, still.
Tho' lawless strife he labour'd to restrain,
Yet judg'd consistent Christians might complain—
And whether Property were more, or less,
Ought use all fair endeavour for redress—
Not mov'd by foolish fear, or ignorant ruth,
To sacrifice the cause of sacred Truth;
Or so blind Bigots superstition trust,
Injustice dreading, to become unjust;
For all who at injustice dare connive
Conspire to keep improper Pow'rs alive!
Judge not so false, ye foolish, jealous, Great!
Who hold all posts and profits of the State,
And all its honours—influence—pow'r—enjoy,
He ne'er look'd on You with envious Eye!
Think not he wish'd his Name to Millions known,
Or long'd to twinkle near a Tyrant's Throne!
Deem not he grudg'd your Grandeur—Pay—or Pow'r,
Ye gaudy Dolls that dance your idle hour!
Or grudg'd you greedy Pensions—Pomp—or Place—
True Christian's hatred—Honesty's disgrace!
Believe me, One who best his bosom knew,
He saw no Sycophant with Rival's View—
His Heart would scorn to take the proudest Posts,
Among the Slaves which form such servile Hosts;
Who worship frequent round a Fellow-Clod,
With adorations only due to God!
Who hold all posts and profits of the State,
And all its honours—influence—pow'r—enjoy,
He ne'er look'd on You with envious Eye!
Think not he wish'd his Name to Millions known,
Or long'd to twinkle near a Tyrant's Throne!
Deem not he grudg'd your Grandeur—Pay—or Pow'r,
Ye gaudy Dolls that dance your idle hour!
Or grudg'd you greedy Pensions—Pomp—or Place—
True Christian's hatred—Honesty's disgrace!
Believe me, One who best his bosom knew,
He saw no Sycophant with Rival's View—
His Heart would scorn to take the proudest Posts,
Among the Slaves which form such servile Hosts;
Who worship frequent round a Fellow-Clod,
With adorations only due to God!
Why should He envy? He who felt no wish
For prouder dwelling, or more pampering dish!
For crowds of Slaves, or Sycophant's caress!
Fantastic Equipage, or costlier Dress!
For mad Amusements—or expensive Sports—
False Pander's praise—or compliments at Courts!
For prouder dwelling, or more pampering dish!
For crowds of Slaves, or Sycophant's caress!
Fantastic Equipage, or costlier Dress!
79
False Pander's praise—or compliments at Courts!
One who must soon be number'd with the Dead,
Hath little here to hope, and less to dread!
He wants but little this World's wealth can buy,
Its Power protect, or Despotism destroy!
The greatest stretch its Tyranny can go,
Is temporal persecution, want, and woe;
And, at the last, with arbitrary Will,
The faded Frame with cruelty to kill—
But when, beneath its doom, the Body drops,
All want, and woe, with persecution, stops!
Oppression's pow'r, in action, or in speech,
No more pure, disembodied Spirit, reach;
It still may champ the bit, and madly chafe,
Dead christian Poors' departed Souls are safe!
Hath little here to hope, and less to dread!
He wants but little this World's wealth can buy,
Its Power protect, or Despotism destroy!
The greatest stretch its Tyranny can go,
Is temporal persecution, want, and woe;
And, at the last, with arbitrary Will,
The faded Frame with cruelty to kill—
But when, beneath its doom, the Body drops,
All want, and woe, with persecution, stops!
Oppression's pow'r, in action, or in speech,
No more pure, disembodied Spirit, reach;
It still may champ the bit, and madly chafe,
Dead christian Poors' departed Souls are safe!
Why should His humbled Mind with Envy mourn,
While viewing Vice, tho' in bright Chariot borne?
Mere groveling Miserables! Great misnamed!
Alone for Lust—Pomp—Pride—and Falshood, fam'd!
All, weighing well their Pow'r, and temporal State,
Must mark their Fruits and judge their future Fate!
Yea, ev'n their present shame shall plainly show
They're not much blest 'mid bounteous lots, below;
For their foul conduct, every day declares
His thriftless lot is happier far than Theirs.
His pardon'd Crimes, and peaceful Conscience, now,
Had calm'd his breast, and smooth'd his tranquil brow;
And tho' subjected, still, to changes, here,
Heav'n banish'd from his Heart all slavish fear—
O'er fairer prospects Faith, with Hope, would roam,
And Love still look'd to find her happier Home;
While Christ's blest Spirit spoke, with whispering breath,
A Destiny far different after Death!
While viewing Vice, tho' in bright Chariot borne?
Mere groveling Miserables! Great misnamed!
Alone for Lust—Pomp—Pride—and Falshood, fam'd!
All, weighing well their Pow'r, and temporal State,
Must mark their Fruits and judge their future Fate!
Yea, ev'n their present shame shall plainly show
They're not much blest 'mid bounteous lots, below;
For their foul conduct, every day declares
His thriftless lot is happier far than Theirs.
His pardon'd Crimes, and peaceful Conscience, now,
Had calm'd his breast, and smooth'd his tranquil brow;
And tho' subjected, still, to changes, here,
Heav'n banish'd from his Heart all slavish fear—
O'er fairer prospects Faith, with Hope, would roam,
And Love still look'd to find her happier Home;
While Christ's blest Spirit spoke, with whispering breath,
A Destiny far different after Death!
Their graceless, gross, pursuits, all plainly tell
They're framing Souls and Bodies both for Hell;
While by false bustle, and confusion's shown,
Their Souls would grieve to live with God alone!
Each sordid, selfish, mad, Amusements sought
To thrust His presence from their painful Thought.
Their Hearts, tho' hard, thro' Habit, still believe
His eye surveys whate'er their Souls conceive;
While their unwilling Minds discover, clear,
What rank Abominations harbour there!
Through each wild Babel-Scene the Body's steer'd,
Lest calls of whispering Conscience should be heard;
Or louder cries should short-lived blessings blast,
Proclaiming Crimes thro' all their Conduct past.
Think not, ye restless Rich! low Malice lurk'd
They're framing Souls and Bodies both for Hell;
While by false bustle, and confusion's shown,
Their Souls would grieve to live with God alone!
Each sordid, selfish, mad, Amusements sought
To thrust His presence from their painful Thought.
Their Hearts, tho' hard, thro' Habit, still believe
His eye surveys whate'er their Souls conceive;
While their unwilling Minds discover, clear,
What rank Abominations harbour there!
Through each wild Babel-Scene the Body's steer'd,
Lest calls of whispering Conscience should be heard;
Or louder cries should short-lived blessings blast,
Proclaiming Crimes thro' all their Conduct past.
Within the labouring breast, while Anger work'd—
He'd ne'er his Peace, and richer Hopes, resign,
For all your Wit and Wealth—your Show and Shine;
Nor wish like Riches—Honours—Place—or Pow'r;
Unless God's Grace would bless each bounteous Dow'r,
By shaping both his Heart, and Will, to share
Those blessings with the Broods of Toil and Care—
For God, and gracious Conscience, must condemn
Such Pomp and Luxury whilst neglecting Them!
His Heart ne'er hanker'd after Fame, or Wealth,
To risque Heav'n's better blessings, Peace and Health;
Nor could his Conscience covet Pow'r, or Place,
Gay Pomp—and Pride, and Lust, with loss of Grace;
Or to seek to purchase, at such countless price,
Such negatives as Vanity, and Vice;
With all the Folly—Falshood—Flattery—found
To cheat the Soul, on such enchanted Ground;
The Troubles—Cares—Anxieties—of Mind,
The frantic Votaries, of those Idols, find;
That, in the present State, all peace destroy,
And banish all just hopes of heavenly Joy:
Ah! no—pure Pity struck his aching Heart,
Beholding You perform your frantic Part;
And swelling sighs oft hove His troubled Breast
To see You, 'mid such Blessings, so unblest!
To see You thus the World's and Satan's Slaves,
With loads of Guilt all hurrying to your Graves—
Each moment subject to your Maker's call
To leave, for ever, this enamouring Ball;
When Life no more shall feel one moment lent
To seek your Spirit's Ransom, or, repent!
When full Accounts must, faithfully, declare
All Talents' use committed to Your care;
And how those bounteous Loans were all bestow'd,
While wandering o'er Life's sublunary Road!
He inly mourn'd to mark Your Lives devoid
Of all pursuits but Passion—Lust—and Pride;
And grieved to note your Time—your Pow'r—your Pelf—
80
None spent on Penury, ev'n at Heaven's call,
Nor for His glory, who first gave You all;
Or scanty doles, by dread of scandal driv'n,
If more enlarg'd, all for Self-glory giv'n.
When, thus, your fleeting Farce of Life shall close,
And all your feelings pant to find repose,
What grinding Griefs Your Minds must undergo
From present Pains, and fears of future Woe!
While all your hopes of Happiness must die,
When Honours, Riches, Pomp, and Influence, fly;
And Conscience, with convicting Terrors, comes
To point the passage to your horrid Homes!
To tell of all your vain, and vicious, Joys,
For Time, nor Strength, support or Hope supplies—
Both banish'd, now—no more to be renew'd!
Yet—like unholy Spectres, oft intrude
To harrass Memory—rob the Heart of rest—
Thrusting barb'd poniards thro' the throbbing breast!
Repeating how You spent Your hapless hours—
How exercis'd Your Heav'n-deputed Pow'rs—
How wasted Wealth, Pride, Passions, Lusts, to feed—
Heav'n lent You to alleviate Pain, and Need—
Against his Grace still barring every door,
While frequent warn'd by Conscience long before!
And all your feelings pant to find repose,
What grinding Griefs Your Minds must undergo
From present Pains, and fears of future Woe!
While all your hopes of Happiness must die,
When Honours, Riches, Pomp, and Influence, fly;
And Conscience, with convicting Terrors, comes
To point the passage to your horrid Homes!
To tell of all your vain, and vicious, Joys,
For Time, nor Strength, support or Hope supplies—
Both banish'd, now—no more to be renew'd!
Yet—like unholy Spectres, oft intrude
To harrass Memory—rob the Heart of rest—
Thrusting barb'd poniards thro' the throbbing breast!
Repeating how You spent Your hapless hours—
How exercis'd Your Heav'n-deputed Pow'rs—
How wasted Wealth, Pride, Passions, Lusts, to feed—
Heav'n lent You to alleviate Pain, and Need—
Against his Grace still barring every door,
While frequent warn'd by Conscience long before!
Who could contemplate calmly, such dark Scene,
Conscious what shame—remorse—pains—miseries mean!
What horrors haunt each Culprit's parting breath—
What nameless woes, and miseries after Death—
Who knows the Worth of Man's immortal Soul,
Can see such Fools approach Life's final Goal,
And, with a callous, cold, indifference, view
The dreadful exit of such Dupes as You!
Can tender Fellow-feeling mute remain,
Nor sympathize with Sinners' poignant Pain?
Ne'er long, with ardour, e'er it be too late,
Each Culprit warn to 'scape such woeful fate?
Who would not promptly wish to interpose
Ere such affecting Scenes for ever close!
To draw aside Eternity's dark veil,
Exposing prospects Worlds unseen conceal;
And take their better Angel's blessed part
By whispering warnings to each heedless heart!
Some serious hint; some sanative advice;
To turn their thoughts, in Time, to happier choice;
The love of Him, with warmth to recommend,
The Sinner's Saviour! the Believer's Friend!
The only Friend whose Favour can secure
Pleasures, which past all date, and bound endure!
Who only can commute each mortal Crime,
And quiet Conscience by true Faith, sublime!
Transfusing thro' the breast that blissful Hope
Past Reason's reach, and Fancy's fullest scope,
Imparting that pure influence from the sky,
That forms and fits the Heart for genuine Joy!
Bestowing on the Soul a second Birth,
With new capacities, to taste, on Earth,
Those purer pleasures none but Spirits know,
Who find that choice, and feel that change, below;
That Faith—Repentance—Peace—Hope—Joy, and Love,
Which furnish foretastes of the bliss above!
A bliss, increasing—most abundant found
Where Christians' growing Graces most abound—
Whose Hearts, engag'd in Christ's most glorious Cause,
Obedient bow to all Heav'n's holy Laws!
By Making Him their Pattern—Path—and Guide;
Still stripping Pomp, and mortifying Pride,
And planting pure Humility instead
To ease the heart, and tranquilize the head!
Well-fenc'd from fleshly Lusts, and worldly Cares;
From Custom's traps—from Satan's cunning snares,
And foolish Fashion's ever-varying Whim
To come, like Children, and be school'd by Him.
Conscious what shame—remorse—pains—miseries mean!
What horrors haunt each Culprit's parting breath—
What nameless woes, and miseries after Death—
Who knows the Worth of Man's immortal Soul,
Can see such Fools approach Life's final Goal,
And, with a callous, cold, indifference, view
The dreadful exit of such Dupes as You!
Can tender Fellow-feeling mute remain,
Nor sympathize with Sinners' poignant Pain?
Ne'er long, with ardour, e'er it be too late,
Each Culprit warn to 'scape such woeful fate?
Who would not promptly wish to interpose
Ere such affecting Scenes for ever close!
To draw aside Eternity's dark veil,
Exposing prospects Worlds unseen conceal;
And take their better Angel's blessed part
By whispering warnings to each heedless heart!
Some serious hint; some sanative advice;
To turn their thoughts, in Time, to happier choice;
The love of Him, with warmth to recommend,
The Sinner's Saviour! the Believer's Friend!
The only Friend whose Favour can secure
Pleasures, which past all date, and bound endure!
Who only can commute each mortal Crime,
And quiet Conscience by true Faith, sublime!
Transfusing thro' the breast that blissful Hope
Past Reason's reach, and Fancy's fullest scope,
Imparting that pure influence from the sky,
That forms and fits the Heart for genuine Joy!
Bestowing on the Soul a second Birth,
With new capacities, to taste, on Earth,
Those purer pleasures none but Spirits know,
Who find that choice, and feel that change, below;
That Faith—Repentance—Peace—Hope—Joy, and Love,
Which furnish foretastes of the bliss above!
A bliss, increasing—most abundant found
Where Christians' growing Graces most abound—
Whose Hearts, engag'd in Christ's most glorious Cause,
Obedient bow to all Heav'n's holy Laws!
By Making Him their Pattern—Path—and Guide;
Still stripping Pomp, and mortifying Pride,
And planting pure Humility instead
To ease the heart, and tranquilize the head!
Well-fenc'd from fleshly Lusts, and worldly Cares;
From Custom's traps—from Satan's cunning snares,
And foolish Fashion's ever-varying Whim
To come, like Children, and be school'd by Him.
To Courtiers this must seem a cruel task;
And few, he fear'd, would condescend to ask—
Their Pride would scarce become so mild and meek,
In such deep Mine to dig—such Pearl to seek—
Or spurning Pride—Wealth—Pow'r—Pomp—simply knock
To drink pure Water from that living Rock!
Pride would not ask for Strength, to conquer Sin,
Or Wisdom, such a peerless Prize to win—
Ne'er seek such Pearl, or grub for hidden Gold,
While Chests, and Wardrobes, chosen Treasures hold.
Pride—Wealth—Pow'r—Pomp—ne'er knock at Mercy's door,
To beg such humble beverage, like the Poor;
Tho' with such Prizes, and such Beverage, blest,
They've won what Pride—Wealth—Pow'r—Pomp—ne'er possest!
And few, he fear'd, would condescend to ask—
Their Pride would scarce become so mild and meek,
In such deep Mine to dig—such Pearl to seek—
Or spurning Pride—Wealth—Pow'r—Pomp—simply knock
To drink pure Water from that living Rock!
Pride would not ask for Strength, to conquer Sin,
Or Wisdom, such a peerless Prize to win—
Ne'er seek such Pearl, or grub for hidden Gold,
While Chests, and Wardrobes, chosen Treasures hold.
Pride—Wealth—Pow'r—Pomp—ne'er knock at Mercy's door,
To beg such humble beverage, like the Poor;
81
They've won what Pride—Wealth—Pow'r—Pomp—ne'er possest!
Yet, by foul Habits fix'd, of Self so fond,
He of their dangerous state durst not despond;
For he'd been taught how some, in earlier Times,
Kings—Courtiers—Priests—repented of their Crimes;
Felt Christ forgave, and, maugre graceless leav'n,
Thro' Faith—and Hope—and Love—went on to Heav'n—
And tho' so desperate Priests, and Courtiers', Case,
He knew no Crimes excluded God's free Grace,
But modern Deists might, at Life's last Hour,
Receive pure Light, and feel renewing Pow'r!
No character, or conduct, quite exempts
The humblest Agent from Pray'rs prompt attempts,
To intercede with Him, whose blood was spilt
To purchase Grace, and pardon greatest Guilt!
That He would Will, and ample Pow'r, bestow,
To save such Culprits from impending Woe—
For tho' immerg'd so deep in prisons dark,
Scarce lighted with one living Gospel-spark,
To show the dear redeeming Saviour's Worth;
Their Faculties all fetter'd down to Earth,
By brazen links of Passion, Pride, and Lust,
Like graceless Drunkards groveling in the dust;
Yet, sometimes, while such Rebels mock and scoff,
One flash, from Heav'n, may melt those fetters off;
And fervent Pray'r, repeated, oft, avails,
From such dull eyes to cleanse the darkening scales.
He of their dangerous state durst not despond;
For he'd been taught how some, in earlier Times,
Kings—Courtiers—Priests—repented of their Crimes;
Felt Christ forgave, and, maugre graceless leav'n,
Thro' Faith—and Hope—and Love—went on to Heav'n—
And tho' so desperate Priests, and Courtiers', Case,
He knew no Crimes excluded God's free Grace,
But modern Deists might, at Life's last Hour,
Receive pure Light, and feel renewing Pow'r!
No character, or conduct, quite exempts
The humblest Agent from Pray'rs prompt attempts,
To intercede with Him, whose blood was spilt
To purchase Grace, and pardon greatest Guilt!
That He would Will, and ample Pow'r, bestow,
To save such Culprits from impending Woe—
For tho' immerg'd so deep in prisons dark,
Scarce lighted with one living Gospel-spark,
To show the dear redeeming Saviour's Worth;
Their Faculties all fetter'd down to Earth,
By brazen links of Passion, Pride, and Lust,
Like graceless Drunkards groveling in the dust;
Yet, sometimes, while such Rebels mock and scoff,
One flash, from Heav'n, may melt those fetters off;
And fervent Pray'r, repeated, oft, avails,
From such dull eyes to cleanse the darkening scales.
Tho' Rich, and Great, should arrogantly scorn
An instrument, so mean, Plebeian born!
With Heav'n's high Advocate to intercede,
Their Crimes to pardon, and their Cause to plead;
Yet his petitions, mixt with Faith, and Fear,
Humility, and Love, kind Heav'n would hear,
Before mere forms of hypocritic Pride,
With Learning, Wit, and Eloquence allied—
And tho' their Pride refuse to hear him preach,
His Pray'r may, still, their highest Interests reach;
And, e'en against their graceless, wayward, Will,
The highest Office of a Friend fulfil!
An instrument, so mean, Plebeian born!
With Heav'n's high Advocate to intercede,
Their Crimes to pardon, and their Cause to plead;
Yet his petitions, mixt with Faith, and Fear,
Humility, and Love, kind Heav'n would hear,
Before mere forms of hypocritic Pride,
With Learning, Wit, and Eloquence allied—
And tho' their Pride refuse to hear him preach,
His Pray'r may, still, their highest Interests reach;
And, e'en against their graceless, wayward, Will,
The highest Office of a Friend fulfil!
He suffered not such Duty e'er to cease,
Tho' Courts consum'd his Property, and Peace;
For well he knew, tho' they his Pray'r should spurn,
To his own Conscience much Content must turn,
By drawing down a Blessing from above,
While thus his Faith fulfilled this Law of Love.
Tho' Courts consum'd his Property, and Peace;
For well he knew, tho' they his Pray'r should spurn,
To his own Conscience much Content must turn,
By drawing down a Blessing from above,
While thus his Faith fulfilled this Law of Love.
How did his Heart with pure Compassion melt,
When on his bended knees he humbly knelt,
Imploring Heav'n with all Heart—Soul—and Mind,
To Pardon, and to pity, mad Mankind!
But chiefly that ungrateful graceless Race
Possest of Riches—Influence—Pow'r—or—Place—
The thoughtless—thankless—impious—courtly Crowd—
So dissipated—vicious—vain—and proud!
So sunk in Lust, and Sloth—so much unlearn'd
In all that Man's immortal Soul's concern'd!
Who Riches—Talents—Time—and Pow'r pervert
To their own ruin—others loss, or hurt!
While pondering such Despisers' dreadful dooms,
When dying—dead—when Bodies quit their Tombs—
Impending o'er their awful Judgment-day
For fooling all their Grace, and Gifts away!
Those Gifts, by God, to meaner Men denied,
In Vice, and Self-idolatry destroy'd!
When on his bended knees he humbly knelt,
Imploring Heav'n with all Heart—Soul—and Mind,
To Pardon, and to pity, mad Mankind!
But chiefly that ungrateful graceless Race
Possest of Riches—Influence—Pow'r—or—Place—
The thoughtless—thankless—impious—courtly Crowd—
So dissipated—vicious—vain—and proud!
So sunk in Lust, and Sloth—so much unlearn'd
In all that Man's immortal Soul's concern'd!
Who Riches—Talents—Time—and Pow'r pervert
To their own ruin—others loss, or hurt!
While pondering such Despisers' dreadful dooms,
When dying—dead—when Bodies quit their Tombs—
Impending o'er their awful Judgment-day
For fooling all their Grace, and Gifts away!
Those Gifts, by God, to meaner Men denied,
In Vice, and Self-idolatry destroy'd!
Meanwhile they float on Time's tumultuous waves,
And gamble o'er their gay Precursors' graves;
Regardless of the threatening, thickening, skies,
Tho' whistling Winds, and tumbling Billows, rise;
Still fluttering round each Whirlpool's fatal brink,
Unwitting, when, but certain, soon, to sink!
Like Frantics, or Enthusiasts, in their trance,
Round hungry Lion's den, all heedless, dance,
At courtly Custom's, or frail Fashion's call,
Tho' sure to feel destroy'd, whene'er they fall!
Those highly-favour'd Mortals Heav'n invests
With all the goodly Gifts of earthly Guests
But when Death drives their Souls—dissolves their Frames,
Then what will Wealth avail, and noiseless Names!
And gamble o'er their gay Precursors' graves;
Regardless of the threatening, thickening, skies,
Tho' whistling Winds, and tumbling Billows, rise;
Still fluttering round each Whirlpool's fatal brink,
Unwitting, when, but certain, soon, to sink!
Like Frantics, or Enthusiasts, in their trance,
Round hungry Lion's den, all heedless, dance,
At courtly Custom's, or frail Fashion's call,
Tho' sure to feel destroy'd, whene'er they fall!
Those highly-favour'd Mortals Heav'n invests
With all the goodly Gifts of earthly Guests
But when Death drives their Souls—dissolves their Frames,
Then what will Wealth avail, and noiseless Names!
Who could behold them, in their blind career,
And yet withhold a sigh! a groan! a Tear!
To see them, thus, in wandering state, so wild!
Like Ideots, heedless, or untoward Child!
While nothing they possest an hour could skreen
Their worshipp'd Fabrics from Life's final Scene.
Nor all the Things they sought with fervour, free
Their sordid Souls from death, and Christ's decree!
On Faith and Practice here their fates depend—
For those frail Frames a blest, or bitter, end;
And on each Grace, improv'd, by godly zeal,
Their Spirits' never-ending Woe, or Weal!
And yet withhold a sigh! a groan! a Tear!
To see them, thus, in wandering state, so wild!
Like Ideots, heedless, or untoward Child!
While nothing they possest an hour could skreen
Their worshipp'd Fabrics from Life's final Scene.
Nor all the Things they sought with fervour, free
Their sordid Souls from death, and Christ's decree!
On Faith and Practice here their fates depend—
For those frail Frames a blest, or bitter, end;
82
Their Spirits' never-ending Woe, or Weal!
Most willingly his bosom would have borne
With temporal pains, and sorrows, to be torn,
Could he procure, by punishment in Time,
Their full release from each condemning Crime;
And, by such voluntary Sacrifice,
Their Conscience cleanse, and purchase endless Joys!
But not a Creature, ever born on Earth,
Or holy Angel, of celestial birth,
Can plead one spark of merit, as its own,
For Self, or human Sinners, to atone!
Yet is there, still, a Sacrifice, declar'd,
By humble Faith, and true Repentance, shar'd;
For every vile returning Sinner slain,
To ransom all their Souls from Satan's chain—
One who, in Love adopts His rescued rights,
To yield them, here, more durable delights;
And more congenial, to converted Souls,
Than futile Pomp's, and frantic Pleasure's, doles;
And certainly secure, at Life's calm close,
The nameless bliss no Unbeliever knows.
But their proud hearts despise the humbling thought
That both their Souls and Bodies should be bought;
And, obstinately spurning Wisdom's ways,
Rob Christ of both the purchase and the praise!
With temporal pains, and sorrows, to be torn,
Could he procure, by punishment in Time,
Their full release from each condemning Crime;
And, by such voluntary Sacrifice,
Their Conscience cleanse, and purchase endless Joys!
But not a Creature, ever born on Earth,
Or holy Angel, of celestial birth,
Can plead one spark of merit, as its own,
For Self, or human Sinners, to atone!
Yet is there, still, a Sacrifice, declar'd,
By humble Faith, and true Repentance, shar'd;
For every vile returning Sinner slain,
To ransom all their Souls from Satan's chain—
One who, in Love adopts His rescued rights,
To yield them, here, more durable delights;
And more congenial, to converted Souls,
Than futile Pomp's, and frantic Pleasure's, doles;
And certainly secure, at Life's calm close,
The nameless bliss no Unbeliever knows.
But their proud hearts despise the humbling thought
That both their Souls and Bodies should be bought;
And, obstinately spurning Wisdom's ways,
Rob Christ of both the purchase and the praise!
He felt, as all fraternal Mortals must,
For Fellow-fall'n, with Bodies doom'd to Dust,
With deathless Souls in so deprav'd a State,
That Friends could scarcely hope a happier Fate!
From close Remark, and sacred Writ, he saw
All counteracted Heav'n's most holy Law!
The meanest Slave, or Monarch on the Throne,
All prov'd their carnal Nature, like his own.
Their Wills perverse, would Prejudice maintain;
And Pride still make each heavenly movement vain—
Whilst Lust's, alert for all Earth's cheating charms,
Call'd Pride and Passions up, each hour, to Arms—
All—all—with Satan—Sin—and World allied,
To render Virtue null, and Reason void;
And all, with godlike Souls to save or lose
As they the Message mock, or wisely choose!
For Fellow-fall'n, with Bodies doom'd to Dust,
With deathless Souls in so deprav'd a State,
That Friends could scarcely hope a happier Fate!
From close Remark, and sacred Writ, he saw
All counteracted Heav'n's most holy Law!
The meanest Slave, or Monarch on the Throne,
All prov'd their carnal Nature, like his own.
Their Wills perverse, would Prejudice maintain;
And Pride still make each heavenly movement vain—
Whilst Lust's, alert for all Earth's cheating charms,
Call'd Pride and Passions up, each hour, to Arms—
All—all—with Satan—Sin—and World allied,
To render Virtue null, and Reason void;
And all, with godlike Souls to save or lose
As they the Message mock, or wisely choose!
|
CHAPTER 17th.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse | |