 | The Poems of John Byrom |  |
383
THE BEGGAR AND THE DIVINE.
384
In some good Books one reads of a Divine
Whose memorable Case deserves a Line;
Who, to serve God the best and shortest Way,
Pray'd for eight Years together every Day,
That in the Midst of Doctrines and of Rules,
However taught and practis'd by the Schools,
He would be pleas'd to bring him to a Man
Prepar'd to teach him the compendious Plan.
Whose memorable Case deserves a Line;
Who, to serve God the best and shortest Way,
Pray'd for eight Years together every Day,
That in the Midst of Doctrines and of Rules,
However taught and practis'd by the Schools,
He would be pleas'd to bring him to a Man
Prepar'd to teach him the compendious Plan.
He was himself a Doctor, and well-read
In all the Points to which Divines were bred.
Nevertheless, he thought, that what concern'd
The most illiterate as well as learn'd
To know and practise, must be something still
More independent on such kind of Skill;
True Christian Worship had within its Root
Some simpler Secret, clear of all Dispute;
Which, by a living Proof that he might know,
He pray'd for some Practitioner to show.
In all the Points to which Divines were bred.
Nevertheless, he thought, that what concern'd
The most illiterate as well as learn'd
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More independent on such kind of Skill;
True Christian Worship had within its Root
Some simpler Secret, clear of all Dispute;
Which, by a living Proof that he might know,
He pray'd for some Practitioner to show.
One Day, possess'd with an intense Concern
About the Lesson which he sought to learn,
He heard a Voice that sounded in his Ears:
“Thou has been praying for a Man eight Years;
Go to the Porch of yonder Church, and find
A Man prepar'd according to thy Mind.”
About the Lesson which he sought to learn,
He heard a Voice that sounded in his Ears:
“Thou has been praying for a Man eight Years;
Go to the Porch of yonder Church, and find
A Man prepar'd according to thy Mind.”
Away he went to the appointed Ground;
When at the Entrance of the Church he found
A poor old Beggar, with his Feet full sore
And not worth Two-pence all the Clothes he wore.
Surpris'd to see an Object so forlorn,
‘My Friend,’ said he, ‘I wish thee a good Morn.’
“Thank thee,” replied the Beggar, “but a bad
I don't remember that I ever had.”
‘Sure, he mistakes,’ the Doctor thought, ‘the Phrase;
Good Fortune, Friend, befall thee all thy Days!’
“Me, said the Beggar, many Days befall,
But none of them unfortunate at all.”
‘God bless thee; answer plainly, I request.’
“Why, plainly then, I never was unblest.”
‘Never? Thou speakest in a mystic Strain,
Which more at large I wish thee to explain.’—
When at the Entrance of the Church he found
A poor old Beggar, with his Feet full sore
And not worth Two-pence all the Clothes he wore.
Surpris'd to see an Object so forlorn,
‘My Friend,’ said he, ‘I wish thee a good Morn.’
“Thank thee,” replied the Beggar, “but a bad
I don't remember that I ever had.”
‘Sure, he mistakes,’ the Doctor thought, ‘the Phrase;
Good Fortune, Friend, befall thee all thy Days!’
“Me, said the Beggar, many Days befall,
But none of them unfortunate at all.”
‘God bless thee; answer plainly, I request.’
“Why, plainly then, I never was unblest.”
386
Which more at large I wish thee to explain.’—
“With all my Heart.—Thou first did condescend
To wish me kindly a good Morning, Friend;
And I replied, that I remember'd not
A bad one ever to have been my Lot.
For, let the Morning turn out how it will,
I praise my God for ev'ry new one still.
If I am pinch'd with Hunger or with Cold,
It does not make me to let go my Hold.
Still I praise God; Hail, Rain, or Snow, I take
This blessèd Cordial, which has Pow'r to make
The foulest Morning to my Thinking fair;
For Cold and Hunger yield to Praise and Pray'r.
Men pity me as wretched, or despise;
But whilst I hold this noble Exercise,
It cheers my Heart to such a due Degree,
That ev'ry Morning is still good to me.
To wish me kindly a good Morning, Friend;
And I replied, that I remember'd not
A bad one ever to have been my Lot.
For, let the Morning turn out how it will,
I praise my God for ev'ry new one still.
If I am pinch'd with Hunger or with Cold,
It does not make me to let go my Hold.
Still I praise God; Hail, Rain, or Snow, I take
This blessèd Cordial, which has Pow'r to make
The foulest Morning to my Thinking fair;
For Cold and Hunger yield to Praise and Pray'r.
Men pity me as wretched, or despise;
But whilst I hold this noble Exercise,
It cheers my Heart to such a due Degree,
That ev'ry Morning is still good to me.
“Thou didst, moreover, wish me lucky Days,
And I, by reason of continual Praise,
Said that I had none else; for, come what would
On any Day, I knew it must be good,
Because God sent it; Sweet or Bitter, Joy
Or Grief, by this Angelical Employ
Of praising Him my Heart was at its Rest,
And took whatever happen'd for the best;
So that my own Experience might say,
It never knew of an unlucky Day.
And I, by reason of continual Praise,
Said that I had none else; for, come what would
On any Day, I knew it must be good,
Because God sent it; Sweet or Bitter, Joy
Or Grief, by this Angelical Employ
Of praising Him my Heart was at its Rest,
And took whatever happen'd for the best;
So that my own Experience might say,
It never knew of an unlucky Day.
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“Then didst thou pray, ‘God bless thee,’ and I said
I never was unblest. For, being led
By the Good Spirit of Imparted Grace
To praise His Name, and ever to embrace
His Righteous Will, regarding That Alone
With total Resignation of my own,
I never could in such a State as this
Complain for want of Happiness or Bliss,—
Resolv'd in all Things that the Will Divine,
The Source of all true Blessing, should be mine.”
I never was unblest. For, being led
By the Good Spirit of Imparted Grace
To praise His Name, and ever to embrace
His Righteous Will, regarding That Alone
With total Resignation of my own,
I never could in such a State as this
Complain for want of Happiness or Bliss,—
Resolv'd in all Things that the Will Divine,
The Source of all true Blessing, should be mine.”
The Doctor, learning from the Beggar's Case
Such wond'rous Instance of the Pow'r of Grace,
Propos'd a Question, with Intent to try
The happy Mendicant's direct Reply:
‘What wouldst thou say,’ said he, ‘should God think fit
To cast thee down to the infernal Pit?’
Such wond'rous Instance of the Pow'r of Grace,
Propos'd a Question, with Intent to try
The happy Mendicant's direct Reply:
‘What wouldst thou say,’ said he, ‘should God think fit
To cast thee down to the infernal Pit?’
“He cast me down? He send me into Hell?
No! He loves me, and I love Him too well.
But put the Case He should, I have two Arms
That will defend me from all hellish Harms,—
The one, Humility; the other, Love.
These I would throw below Him, and above;
One under His Humanity I'd place,
His Deity the other should embrace;
With both together so to hold Him fast,
That I should go wherever He would cast;—
And then, whatever thou shalt call the Sphere,—
Hell, if thou wilt,—'tis Heav'n if He be there.”
No! He loves me, and I love Him too well.
But put the Case He should, I have two Arms
That will defend me from all hellish Harms,—
The one, Humility; the other, Love.
These I would throw below Him, and above;
One under His Humanity I'd place,
His Deity the other should embrace;
With both together so to hold Him fast,
That I should go wherever He would cast;—
And then, whatever thou shalt call the Sphere,—
Hell, if thou wilt,—'tis Heav'n if He be there.”
388
Thus was a great Divine, whom some have thought
To be the justly-fam'd Taulerus, taught
The Holy Art,—for which he us'd to pray;
That to serve God the most compendious Way
Was to hold fast a loving, humble Mind,
Still praising Him and to His Will resign'd.
To be the justly-fam'd Taulerus, taught
The Holy Art,—for which he us'd to pray;
That to serve God the most compendious Way
Was to hold fast a loving, humble Mind,
Still praising Him and to His Will resign'd.
| The Poems of John Byrom | |