The Poems of John Byrom :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Jonathan Edwards, by this book's edition,
Appears to be a dry metaphysician.”
(In Mr. N.'s own letter.) — Well might I
Be disappointed by a book so dry,—
So sapless dry,—who cherish no opinion
Of Calvinistic cobwebs, or Arminian!

“To sweep away the last was the design
Of this distinguished, favourite divine,—
His principal intention.”—Be it so;
This was no part of my concern to know,—
No part of my expectancy to find,—
Whose hopes, though faint, were of a diff'rent kind.
Something, I fancied, worth attending to
Might probably enough occur to view
Within a work which so sincere a friend
To what he thought was right did so commend.

If, when for want of time to reconcile
Our thoughts in one short conversation, while
I asked what author he supposed, if read,
Would best explain his notions, he had said,—
“I'll send you one of the New-England sages,
Who in four hundred full octavo pages

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Has by his dry and metaphysic skill
Demolish'd ev'ry meaning of Free-Will,
But brought in dire Necessity's behoof
Less obvious, less experimental proof,—
Leaving in this attempt the usual way
Of writing which his other books display:”—
Such a description (and his words contain
No less, you see, if suffer'd to speak plain,)
Might have diminish'd the profound surprise
Which in my mind would naturally rise
Without the help of such a previous hint
From dry Enquiry's metaphysic print.

Without disparaging the works unknown,
I really could not relish this, I own;
Nor cease to wonder how your neighbour could
Who had himself said many things so good
In sermons far surpassing, if one looks,
All such polemically wither'd books.—
In this, too oft instead of the divine
The wrangling soph. appears along the line,—
The trifling shuffler of distinctions round;
All sense of words still fashion'd to confound
All obvious thoughts concerning good and ill
Through mere aversion to a man's Free-Will;
Which, oft confess'd in phrases tantamount,
The tedious page still rambles to discount

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Its metaphysical conceits among,
Dry as the cobwebs which they sweep along.

“The book has been in print for many years,
And yet no answer, 'tis observ'd, appears.”
But would our honest friend consider why,
Its very dryness might forbid reply;
And metaphysics, such as it pursues,
Require some patience even to peruse.
Want of an answer he could scarce object,
Since by their own voluminous defect
Some books may possibly be deem'd too bad
For any formal answer to be had.

But, take the book, who likes it?—Mr. N.
Himself, for me, has much the better pen;
And were his better sense but once untied
From partial systems upon ev'ry side,
He would soon see that gratitude of mind
Did not require God's Grace to be confin'd,
And not to show like favour in like case,
In order more to magnify the Grace;—
As if it wanted, for a foil, to doom
Its equal needers to eternal gloom!
“If I had been,” says he, “but for the pow'r
Of Grace bestow'd, blasphemer to this hour,—
This Grace to me if God is pleas'd to grant,
Not to some others who have equal want,—

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I am, I think, in equal case of need
Peculiarly favour'd; which indeed
I rather would admire than dispute.
And after all what harm can be the fruit
Of happy change ascribed to Him alone,
And to His Goodness rather than my own?”

Doubtless all praise to God Alone is due
For happy change; but is it therefore true
That this Good God refuses to admit
The change in others, in all points so fit
For such a blessing? Will This Father leave
One child without, that can or will receive?
Is a self-righteousness so much amiss,
That makes man's merit greater than it is,
And a self-favour'dness from danger free
That, clinging to its own peculiar me,
Cries, “God, I thank Thee, that I am supplied
With Grace, to other men like me denied?”

Let Mr. N. consider what is done—
It is his own allusion—by the sun!
Unchang'd itself, it shines with equal day
On equal fitness to receive its ray.
All Calvinistic or Arminian strain
Is cobweb search; a principle so plain
Sets this, on which he goes, in its true light:
“Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?”