The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse :: :: University of Virginia Library

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!

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!

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,

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.

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 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!

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.

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!

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!

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.

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!

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!

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.

	CHAPTER 17th. The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse