The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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St. Matthew, Chapter vi.
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
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St. Matthew, Chapter vi.
Part of the Sermon on the Mount.
Let shining charity adorn your zeal,
The noblest impulse gen'rous minds can feel:
But, have a care, you take this virtue right,
And shun the glare of the proud hypocrite.
Mistaken men! who, fond of public fame,
Disgrace the act, while they affect the name!
On earth, vain-glorious zeal may meet regard,
But heav'n nor owns it, nor vouchsafes reward.
The noblest impulse gen'rous minds can feel:
But, have a care, you take this virtue right,
And shun the glare of the proud hypocrite.
Mistaken men! who, fond of public fame,
Disgrace the act, while they affect the name!
On earth, vain-glorious zeal may meet regard,
But heav'n nor owns it, nor vouchsafes reward.
Thou, on the contrary, whose pitying breast
Wou'd, as it ought, give ease to the distrest;
Scarce tell thy right hand, what thy left will do,
But be, at once, resolv'd, and silent, too.
Secret, as night, thy pious alms convey;
For God, who sees, by night, rewards, by day.
Wou'd, as it ought, give ease to the distrest;
Scarce tell thy right hand, what thy left will do,
But be, at once, resolv'd, and silent, too.
Secret, as night, thy pious alms convey;
For God, who sees, by night, rewards, by day.
So, when thy soul approaches God, in pray'r,
Be not deceiv'd, as those false zealots are;
Who, daily, into crowded temples press,
And there, with feign'd devotion, heav'n address;
But, when thou pray'st, all public notice shun,
And, private, to thy inmost closet, run:
There, close, and earnest, to thy duty fall,
And God will shew thee, that he hears thy call.
Be not deceiv'd, as those false zealots are;
Who, daily, into crowded temples press,
And there, with feign'd devotion, heav'n address;
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And, private, to thy inmost closet, run:
There, close, and earnest, to thy duty fall,
And God will shew thee, that he hears thy call.
Swell not thy forms of pray'r, with wild desires,
Excess of fuel choaks the brightest Fires.
The erring heathen so mistake their way,
And think, they best are heard, who most can say.
But shun thou this, and know, God's piercing eye
Sees all thy wants, before thy words come nigh.
From rising malice, guard thy yielding will,
Nor proudly dare, to take revenge, for ill:
Thou must forgive, that God may pardon thee;
For none, who pities not, shall pitied be.
Excess of fuel choaks the brightest Fires.
The erring heathen so mistake their way,
And think, they best are heard, who most can say.
But shun thou this, and know, God's piercing eye
Sees all thy wants, before thy words come nigh.
From rising malice, guard thy yielding will,
Nor proudly dare, to take revenge, for ill:
Thou must forgive, that God may pardon thee;
For none, who pities not, shall pitied be.
Misled, by av'rice, seek not wealth to gain,
By hoarding treasures, which are got, in vain:
Deceitful riches, which the moth destroys,
Which rust consumes, or the bold thief enjoys!
In heav'n's high storehouse, let your heaps be laid,
A wealth, which no destroyer can invade:
No moth there enters, rust corrupts not there,
Nor plund'ring thief alarms the owner's care!
Safe, therefore, in that place, your treasures lay;
For where your riches are, your heart will stay.
By hoarding treasures, which are got, in vain:
Deceitful riches, which the moth destroys,
Which rust consumes, or the bold thief enjoys!
In heav'n's high storehouse, let your heaps be laid,
A wealth, which no destroyer can invade:
No moth there enters, rust corrupts not there,
Nor plund'ring thief alarms the owner's care!
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For where your riches are, your heart will stay.
Secure of heav'n's regard, live free from care,
Nor toil, life's common comforts to prepare:
Banish vain forecast for thy needful gain,
Nor let meat, drink, and cloathing, give thee pain.
Observe the fowls—they neither reap, nor sow,
Yet find their wants supply'd, where'er they go.
Look on the lillies of the ripening field!
No toil of theirs does those sweet colours yield;
Yet, was not Solomon, when drest to please,
So gloriously adorn'd, as one of these.
If, therefore, God so feeds the feather'd train,
So cloaths the grass, which withers on the plain,
How much more careful will he be of you,
O, faithless man! who, yet, distrusts him, too?
Nor toil, life's common comforts to prepare:
Banish vain forecast for thy needful gain,
Nor let meat, drink, and cloathing, give thee pain.
Observe the fowls—they neither reap, nor sow,
Yet find their wants supply'd, where'er they go.
Look on the lillies of the ripening field!
No toil of theirs does those sweet colours yield;
Yet, was not Solomon, when drest to please,
So gloriously adorn'd, as one of these.
If, therefore, God so feeds the feather'd train,
So cloaths the grass, which withers on the plain,
How much more careful will he be of you,
O, faithless man! who, yet, distrusts him, too?
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