The Works of Mr. Robert Gould In Two Volumes. Consisting of those Poems [and] Satyrs Which were formerly Printed, and Corrected since by the Author; As also of the many more which He Design'd for the Press. Publish'd from his Own Original Copies [by Robert Gould] |
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Mother Clark's Ghost,
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
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Mother Clark's Ghost,
A SATYR: Occasion'd by a Quaker's Burying his Mother, (a Church of England Woman,) contrary to her Dying Will, in a Plot of Ground purchas'd by them for a Burial Place, before her Interment made use of as a Pound.
TO The REVEREND Mr. Francis Henry Cary,
Rector of Brinkworth, IN THE County of
Wilts
These be they who Separate themselves, Sensual, having not
the Spirit.
Jude ver. 19.
From the Eternal Regions of the Blest,
The Seat of Peace, of Glory, Joy and Rest,
I for thy sake, O Wretch! To Earth repair,
And cease a while to breath Celestial Air,
To cure thy false Belief, and make the Truth thy Care.
Not that You must expect such Gentle Words
As here the Parent to the Child affords;
A faint Reproof that spoils what it endears,
An Anger for Offence that ends in Tears:
A Sharper Med'cine I must now Impart,
That to the very Soul shall Scorpions dart,
And Lance the Core that rankles at your Heart.
The Seat of Peace, of Glory, Joy and Rest,
I for thy sake, O Wretch! To Earth repair,
And cease a while to breath Celestial Air,
To cure thy false Belief, and make the Truth thy Care.
Not that You must expect such Gentle Words
As here the Parent to the Child affords;
A faint Reproof that spoils what it endears,
An Anger for Offence that ends in Tears:
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That to the very Soul shall Scorpions dart,
And Lance the Core that rankles at your Heart.
Ah! Was it not enough, Ingrateful Child,
That You at first my Early Hopes beguil'd?
And when I'd set Thee in the Only Way,
After an Ignis fatuus falsly stray?
A Flame that is by Envious Spirits driv'n
From Place to Place, and banish'd out of Heav'n:
A Roving Light that drills on Captious Fools,
And leads 'em thorow Hedges, Bogs and Pools;
In the dark Maze of Errour on they Post,
To Reason deaf, and to Conviction lost.
If any Motion rises in their Breast
That says they're wrong, 'tis Certainly Supprest,
So much their Zeal depends upon their Interest.
In vain the Bright and Cloudless Hope appears
That from the Scriptures points us to the Spheres;
A Hope we never heard or read of yet
That any of our Holy Church did quit
On the meer Principles of Grace, or Wit:
Quite thro' and thro' Survey your Impious Train,
And find me One that did our Faith refrain,
Unless for want of Sense, or hope of Gain.
That You at first my Early Hopes beguil'd?
And when I'd set Thee in the Only Way,
After an Ignis fatuus falsly stray?
A Flame that is by Envious Spirits driv'n
From Place to Place, and banish'd out of Heav'n:
A Roving Light that drills on Captious Fools,
And leads 'em thorow Hedges, Bogs and Pools;
In the dark Maze of Errour on they Post,
To Reason deaf, and to Conviction lost.
If any Motion rises in their Breast
That says they're wrong, 'tis Certainly Supprest,
So much their Zeal depends upon their Interest.
In vain the Bright and Cloudless Hope appears
That from the Scriptures points us to the Spheres;
A Hope we never heard or read of yet
That any of our Holy Church did quit
On the meer Principles of Grace, or Wit:
Quite thro' and thro' Survey your Impious Train,
And find me One that did our Faith refrain,
Unless for want of Sense, or hope of Gain.
But was it not enough to lose your Way,
And lose it in the open Face of Day
Against the Light of Grace to shut Your Eyes,
And from Eternal Truth Apostatize?
But You must disobey the last Commands
I ever made? And, with unhallow'd Hands,
Throw, like a Dog's, my Corps into a Hole,
And with my Body's Rest disturb my Soul.
And lose it in the open Face of Day
Against the Light of Grace to shut Your Eyes,
And from Eternal Truth Apostatize?
But You must disobey the last Commands
I ever made? And, with unhallow'd Hands,
Throw, like a Dog's, my Corps into a Hole,
And with my Body's Rest disturb my Soul.
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Is this the Fruit of my Maternal Care?
Is this the Crop that Luckless Soil did bear?
Is this the Comfort that by Pray'r we gain?
The Pleasure that Rewards a Mother's Pain?
I beg'd a Son, but, as he proves, the want
Had been a Greater Blessing than the Grant.
Who in my stead wou'd now a Mother be?
Ev'n Satan did but fall from Truth like Thee,
And Hell was founded in Apostacie.
Is this the Crop that Luckless Soil did bear?
Is this the Comfort that by Pray'r we gain?
The Pleasure that Rewards a Mother's Pain?
I beg'd a Son, but, as he proves, the want
Had been a Greater Blessing than the Grant.
Who in my stead wou'd now a Mother be?
Ev'n Satan did but fall from Truth like Thee,
And Hell was founded in Apostacie.
Perhaps You'll say (in nothing else accurst
But that and Thee) because I was the first
That in th'unhallow'd Place a Burial found,
You laid me there to Sanctify the Ground:
But that was done (if You cou'd understand
Bare common Sense) already to your Hand:
For was not many a Beast that us'd to stray,
Or Stubbornly wou'd leave the Beaten Way,
In that sad Durance mournfully Confin'd?
And seem'd to Prophesy it was design'd
A close Restraint for a more Brutal Kind.
The Bones of Dogs and Cats have there been thrown,
To make it proper to Receive Your Own;
They have prepar'd Your Way and never yet
Did any Type th'Allusion better fit;
Your Harbingers at once in Sanctity and Wit.
But that and Thee) because I was the first
That in th'unhallow'd Place a Burial found,
You laid me there to Sanctify the Ground:
But that was done (if You cou'd understand
Bare common Sense) already to your Hand:
For was not many a Beast that us'd to stray,
Or Stubbornly wou'd leave the Beaten Way,
In that sad Durance mournfully Confin'd?
And seem'd to Prophesy it was design'd
A close Restraint for a more Brutal Kind.
The Bones of Dogs and Cats have there been thrown,
To make it proper to Receive Your Own;
They have prepar'd Your Way and never yet
Did any Type th'Allusion better fit;
Your Harbingers at once in Sanctity and Wit.
But in this Place methinks Your Blinking Guide,
(Who yet believes there's Nothing sees beside)
Grinning with Virulence, and swell'd with Spite,
Thus speaks, tho' he can hardly Read, or Write.
(Who yet believes there's Nothing sees beside)
Grinning with Virulence, and swell'd with Spite,
Thus speaks, tho' he can hardly Read, or Write.
Sister (and gripes me by the Hand) Y' are wide
Alas! All Ground alike is Sanctify'd:
This is not worse than that, nor that than this,
All made at once, and all are of a Piece.
A Bog-House here, and there a
Tow'r-House stands,
And who's not Conscious both were made with Hands?
Who does not both as Human Structures view?
Then if ones Hallow'd 'tothers Hallow'd too.
About Your Burial why d'ye keep this pother?
I had as lieve be put in One as 'tother.
What matter is it where the Body's lain,
Since, cast it where You please, 'twill rise again?
What can the Proudest Edifice do more
Than, at the General Call, their Dead restore?
The Vilest Jakes that Privilege will have;
Why lye You then not Quiet in your Grave?
Alas! All Ground alike is Sanctify'd:
This is not worse than that, nor that than this,
All made at once, and all are of a Piece.
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And who's not Conscious both were made with Hands?
Who does not both as Human Structures view?
Then if ones Hallow'd 'tothers Hallow'd too.
About Your Burial why d'ye keep this pother?
I had as lieve be put in One as 'tother.
What matter is it where the Body's lain,
Since, cast it where You please, 'twill rise again?
What can the Proudest Edifice do more
Than, at the General Call, their Dead restore?
The Vilest Jakes that Privilege will have;
Why lye You then not Quiet in your Grave?
I've told, I cry, and further yet shall tell
Such usage to a Parent was not well:
But First, e'er more upon that Head I speak,
I'll prove at large Your Arguments are weak.
Such usage to a Parent was not well:
But First, e'er more upon that Head I speak,
I'll prove at large Your Arguments are weak.
That God design'd the whole Creation Good
We grant, nor was it Curst while Adam stood
All things were Paradise; to Plough and Sow
Was Vain, Corn did Uncultivated grow.
The Earth was pregnant of her own Accord,
And teem'd with Dayly Wonders for her Lord.
No Floods above their Banks the Rivers rais'd,
In the same Pasture Lambs and Tygers graz'd;
One did not fear, nor yet was 'tother wild;
But God rejoyc'd, and all his Creatures smil'd.—
But soon the Noble Scene was chang'd; and now
Our Bread's the Sweat and Labour of the Brow.
The Sea unruly gain'd upon the Land,
And here vast Desarts lie Immers'd in Sand:
Curst for the sake of Man, the steril Soil
Deceives our Hope and Mocks the Plough-mans Toil:
At best the Cockle with the Corn does grow,
Destroys one half, and keeps the other low.
Enthusiasm so, and Sanguin Zeal,
Once serv'd Religion and the Common Weal.
We grant, nor was it Curst while Adam stood
All things were Paradise; to Plough and Sow
Was Vain, Corn did Uncultivated grow.
The Earth was pregnant of her own Accord,
And teem'd with Dayly Wonders for her Lord.
No Floods above their Banks the Rivers rais'd,
In the same Pasture Lambs and Tygers graz'd;
One did not fear, nor yet was 'tother wild;
But God rejoyc'd, and all his Creatures smil'd.—
But soon the Noble Scene was chang'd; and now
Our Bread's the Sweat and Labour of the Brow.
The Sea unruly gain'd upon the Land,
And here vast Desarts lie Immers'd in Sand:
Curst for the sake of Man, the steril Soil
Deceives our Hope and Mocks the Plough-mans Toil:
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Destroys one half, and keeps the other low.
Enthusiasm so, and Sanguin Zeal,
Once serv'd Religion and the Common Weal.
But, tho' the Curse was Gen'ral, 'tis confest
Some Regions yet scap'd better than the rest.
In Palestine why did th'Almighty place
The Israelites his Sacred Chosen Race,
Unless the more abundantly to show
His Blessings, which did there in Rivers Flow?
Hony, and Milk, and Corn, and Wine and Oyl,
And all that shews a happy Fruitfull Soil,
They had, and these so plentifully giv'n,
They lik'd the Change tho' fed before from Heav'n.
Some Regions yet scap'd better than the rest.
In Palestine why did th'Almighty place
The Israelites his Sacred Chosen Race,
Unless the more abundantly to show
His Blessings, which did there in Rivers Flow?
Hony, and Milk, and Corn, and Wine and Oyl,
And all that shews a happy Fruitfull Soil,
They had, and these so plentifully giv'n,
They lik'd the Change tho' fed before from Heav'n.
And as some Portions we more Fruitfull view
Than others, so there's some more Sacred too.
When God of old to Moses did appear,
Why did He in the Flaming Bush declare,
Pull of thy Shooes, the Ground is Holy here,
But, where He's more Immediately confest,
To shew the Place more Hallow'd than the rest?
For plucking of the Shooe was then and there
The mark of Reverence, as the Hat is here;
And in the Eastern Parts 'tis (when they'd shew
A Defe'rence to Degree) what still they do.
Why, on Araunah's Threshing Floor to stand,
Was the fam'd Temple Built by God's Command?
It's Fabrick on that very Spot to Rise,
Where Isaac was design'd for Sacrifice?
Unless to shew us from the Faithfull, there
He wou'd Accept the Sacrifice of Prayer;
There be Petition'd, Honour'd, Sought, Ador'd,
For Blessings prais'd, and for our wants Implor'd,
And of all Nations own'd Eternal Lord.
There while that Fabrick stood his Name abode,
Thro' that to Heav'n was made the Publick Road:
Ev'n God Himself, to shew that He had there
His Residence calls it—My House of Prayer.
Than others, so there's some more Sacred too.
When God of old to Moses did appear,
Why did He in the Flaming Bush declare,
Pull of thy Shooes, the Ground is Holy here,
But, where He's more Immediately confest,
To shew the Place more Hallow'd than the rest?
For plucking of the Shooe was then and there
The mark of Reverence, as the Hat is here;
And in the Eastern Parts 'tis (when they'd shew
A Defe'rence to Degree) what still they do.
Why, on Araunah's Threshing Floor to stand,
Was the fam'd Temple Built by God's Command?
It's Fabrick on that very Spot to Rise,
Where Isaac was design'd for Sacrifice?
Unless to shew us from the Faithfull, there
He wou'd Accept the Sacrifice of Prayer;
There be Petition'd, Honour'd, Sought, Ador'd,
For Blessings prais'd, and for our wants Implor'd,
And of all Nations own'd Eternal Lord.
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Thro' that to Heav'n was made the Publick Road:
Ev'n God Himself, to shew that He had there
His Residence calls it—My House of Prayer.
But that this to our Times may be apply'd,
Our thinking Altars Sacred Justify'd;
Pray let us ask if Piety or Guilt
Was the prime Reason Churches first were built:
Were those Divine and Noble Structures rear'd
That God might in 'em be Blasphem'd, or Fear'd?
You cannot so much Ignorance pretend,
As not to know his Glory was the End.
If then that was their Genuine known Design,
All set apart for Ways and Works Divine;
If to that Use and by Impulse from Heav'n,
They were by Solemn Dedication giv'n;
If still Employ'd for what they first were rais'd,
And never to a Lower Name debas'd;
'Tis what the worst of Heathens wou'd not dare,
So Impious! other Houses to compare
With these of Gods, the Holy Courts of Pray'r:
Holy, as far as Consecration may
(And as it doubtless does) that Grace convey;
And Solomon's was so no other way.
Our thinking Altars Sacred Justify'd;
Pray let us ask if Piety or Guilt
Was the prime Reason Churches first were built:
Were those Divine and Noble Structures rear'd
That God might in 'em be Blasphem'd, or Fear'd?
You cannot so much Ignorance pretend,
As not to know his Glory was the End.
If then that was their Genuine known Design,
All set apart for Ways and Works Divine;
If to that Use and by Impulse from Heav'n,
They were by Solemn Dedication giv'n;
If still Employ'd for what they first were rais'd,
And never to a Lower Name debas'd;
'Tis what the worst of Heathens wou'd not dare,
So Impious! other Houses to compare
With these of Gods, the Holy Courts of Pray'r:
Holy, as far as Consecration may
(And as it doubtless does) that Grace convey;
And Solomon's was so no other way.
'Tis true that Heav'n has still an open Ear,
But seems to be the most Attentive there:
For tho' the Pious Christian shall be heard,
More, their Petitions meet with more Regard;
And much the Rather if th'Occasion be
By Pray'r t'avert some Publick Misery,
Or Praise, to shew his Blessings we receive
With thankfull Hearts, and Act as we Believe.
Lot tho' a Righteous Person, was but one,
And scarce with much a do preserv'd his own;
But Ten Just Men had sav'd the Cursed Town.
For as we in some Royal Consort find,
Where differ'ing Notes Harmoniously are Joyn'd,
It does our Minds with Nobler Transports fill;
Than if one Play'd, tho' he Perform'd with Skill:
So when the Publick in his Building Joyn
With Praise, Repentance, and in Hymns Divine,
The only Mortal Sounds that charm his Ear,
He bends the Heav'ns, and stoops half way to hear!
Devoted to his Glory, all the Theme
Begins and Ends with his Immortal Name.
Ah! how much better in his Courts a Day
Than Thousands are to those that keep away!
What Malt-house, Stable, Barn, or Common Room
Can with such Cause a Sanctity assume?
Where, whatsoe'er You talk of inward Light,
Th'Adulterer and the Thief may lodge at Night,
Hypocrisy, Detraction, Strifes, Deceits,
False Measures too, and a False Bag of Weights.
But seems to be the most Attentive there:
For tho' the Pious Christian shall be heard,
More, their Petitions meet with more Regard;
And much the Rather if th'Occasion be
By Pray'r t'avert some Publick Misery,
Or Praise, to shew his Blessings we receive
With thankfull Hearts, and Act as we Believe.
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And scarce with much a do preserv'd his own;
But Ten Just Men had sav'd the Cursed Town.
For as we in some Royal Consort find,
Where differ'ing Notes Harmoniously are Joyn'd,
It does our Minds with Nobler Transports fill;
Than if one Play'd, tho' he Perform'd with Skill:
So when the Publick in his Building Joyn
With Praise, Repentance, and in Hymns Divine,
The only Mortal Sounds that charm his Ear,
He bends the Heav'ns, and stoops half way to hear!
Devoted to his Glory, all the Theme
Begins and Ends with his Immortal Name.
Ah! how much better in his Courts a Day
Than Thousands are to those that keep away!
What Malt-house, Stable, Barn, or Common Room
Can with such Cause a Sanctity assume?
Where, whatsoe'er You talk of inward Light,
Th'Adulterer and the Thief may lodge at Night,
Hypocrisy, Detraction, Strifes, Deceits,
False Measures too, and a False Bag of Weights.
But here, perhaps, You'll this Objection Start:
His Chiefest Temple is a Holy Heart;
There 'tis He dwells, nor there in vain Commands;
God's not confin'd to Buildings made with Hands:
The Heav'n of Heav'ns not able to Contain
His Boundless Spirit;—Churches then are Vain.
His Chiefest Temple is a Holy Heart;
There 'tis He dwells, nor there in vain Commands;
God's not confin'd to Buildings made with Hands:
The Heav'n of Heav'ns not able to Contain
His Boundless Spirit;—Churches then are Vain.
Ungodly Inference! for if every Where
His Spirit is, by Consequence 'tis There.
But take this Scripture Just as 'twas design'd,
It only shews his Glory unconfin'd;
That we can raise no Edifice to Suit
His Pow'r, and ev'ry Boundless Attribute:
For those in Nobler Instances were shown,
In vaster Piles, and Buildings of His Own,
The Earth His Footstool, and the Heav'ns His Throne.
But tho' this Way exceeds the Pow'r of Man,
W'are not deny'd t'approach Him as we can:
The Heart He loves Obedient and Sincere,
And may be truly said t'Inhabit there;
But must we therefore quit his House of Pray'r?
Search thro' the Sacred Page You'll quickly find
The Coming thither, to all Humankind,
A Thousand Ways inforc'd, a Thousand times injoyn'd;
Our Saviour thither went, the Life! the Way!
And not to follow Him is certainly to Stray.
In vain you then against his House contend;
'Tis there He will be with us to the End:
In vain our Form of Worship You accuse;
How dare You think He will that Pray'r refuse,
Which He himself Instructed us to use?
His Spirit is, by Consequence 'tis There.
But take this Scripture Just as 'twas design'd,
It only shews his Glory unconfin'd;
That we can raise no Edifice to Suit
His Pow'r, and ev'ry Boundless Attribute:
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In vaster Piles, and Buildings of His Own,
The Earth His Footstool, and the Heav'ns His Throne.
But tho' this Way exceeds the Pow'r of Man,
W'are not deny'd t'approach Him as we can:
The Heart He loves Obedient and Sincere,
And may be truly said t'Inhabit there;
But must we therefore quit his House of Pray'r?
Search thro' the Sacred Page You'll quickly find
The Coming thither, to all Humankind,
A Thousand Ways inforc'd, a Thousand times injoyn'd;
Our Saviour thither went, the Life! the Way!
And not to follow Him is certainly to Stray.
In vain you then against his House contend;
'Tis there He will be with us to the End:
In vain our Form of Worship You accuse;
How dare You think He will that Pray'r refuse,
Which He himself Instructed us to use?
Refuted thus by Arguments, so clear,
And all our Churches Hallow'd made appear,
Where shou'd the Christian be Interr'd but there?
If there were Nothing else our Wills to awe,
Ev'n Common Decency were here a Law.
And all our Churches Hallow'd made appear,
Where shou'd the Christian be Interr'd but there?
If there were Nothing else our Wills to awe,
Ev'n Common Decency were here a Law.
But if all this were false, what can You use,
What shift my Disobedient Son t'excuse?
For if, (as You so Brutally maintain,)
It is no matter where the Body's lain,
What need was there t'oppose my Dying Will,
Ev'n where You Own th'Obeying not an Ill?
What shift my Disobedient Son t'excuse?
For if, (as You so Brutally maintain,)
It is no matter where the Body's lain,
What need was there t'oppose my Dying Will,
Ev'n where You Own th'Obeying not an Ill?
Your Senseless Guide's Objections thus o'erthrown,
Think not a better Fate attends Your Own.
And since the Scriptures You pretend your Rule,
And all that do not wrest 'em Knave, or Fool,
What Passage there does make You understand
You ought to slight a Parents just Command?
When Jacob dy'd, You see what e'er He Will'd
To the Minutest Circumstance fulfill'd:
And when the Israelites remov'd, we find
The Bones of Joseph were not left behind.
How dare you among Christians shew Your Face,
When ev'n among the Jews, that Murm'ring Race,
We never read of One so void of Grace?
Think not a better Fate attends Your Own.
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And all that do not wrest 'em Knave, or Fool,
What Passage there does make You understand
You ought to slight a Parents just Command?
When Jacob dy'd, You see what e'er He Will'd
To the Minutest Circumstance fulfill'd:
And when the Israelites remov'd, we find
The Bones of Joseph were not left behind.
How dare you among Christians shew Your Face,
When ev'n among the Jews, that Murm'ring Race,
We never read of One so void of Grace?
To be by Thee thrown out of Hallow'd Ground,
As if I'd been my Own self-Murderer found:
The Service that our Holy Church Enjoyns
Omitted, Slighted, that and her Divines;
And nothing to distinguish't from the Curse
Of Heathen Burial, but it's being Worse.
The very Memory does with Horror seize
My Airy Form, and frights her from her Ease!
As if I'd been my Own self-Murderer found:
The Service that our Holy Church Enjoyns
Omitted, Slighted, that and her Divines;
And nothing to distinguish't from the Curse
Of Heathen Burial, but it's being Worse.
The very Memory does with Horror seize
My Airy Form, and frights her from her Ease!
Not but I know You Impiously maintain
That Service Superstitious, fond and vain;
And urge, no Pray'r, or Part of Scripture read,
Is usefull at the Burial of the Dead:
That our Set Form's Illiterate, Poor and Rude,
And all You speak with Heav'nly Pow'r indu'd
And for that Reason, as defective, shun
Our Way of Burial, and extoll your Own:
That since th'Unerring Spirit is your Guide,
All Human Aid You justly lay aside.
That Service Superstitious, fond and vain;
And urge, no Pray'r, or Part of Scripture read,
Is usefull at the Burial of the Dead:
That our Set Form's Illiterate, Poor and Rude,
And all You speak with Heav'nly Pow'r indu'd
And for that Reason, as defective, shun
Our Way of Burial, and extoll your Own:
That since th'Unerring Spirit is your Guide,
All Human Aid You justly lay aside.
But let the Fau'tless Scripture be admir'd,
Whose Holy Pen-Men truly were Inspir'd:
Thro' all succeeding Times, both worst and best,
They have run down and born the strictest Test
A Spirit there in ev'ry Line we see
Of Hope, Love, Joy, and Immortalitie.
If then in our Interment of the Dead
Ought never yet was either sung or said,
Deriv'd not from that Source of Pietie,
But took from that, or does with that agree;
What Light so e'er Ye feign Y'ave on your Side,
We, following that, may boast a Brighter Guide.
Whose Holy Pen-Men truly were Inspir'd:
Thro' all succeeding Times, both worst and best,
They have run down and born the strictest Test
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Of Hope, Love, Joy, and Immortalitie.
If then in our Interment of the Dead
Ought never yet was either sung or said,
Deriv'd not from that Source of Pietie,
But took from that, or does with that agree;
What Light so e'er Ye feign Y'ave on your Side,
We, following that, may boast a Brighter Guide.
But now comes on the Test, for all to see
Which Method most with Scripture does agree:
With an Impartial Hand we'll both display,
And Judge your self which takes the safer Way.
Which Method most with Scripture does agree:
With an Impartial Hand we'll both display,
And Judge your self which takes the safer Way.
View then, some of our Holy Church attend,
To do the Last sad Office for their Friend:
The Priest to meet the Corps advances bare,
As all shou'd be that call on God by Pray'r:
Then, gravely walking on before the Dead,
These few Selected Texts our Rubrick bids him read.
To do the Last sad Office for their Friend:
The Priest to meet the Corps advances bare,
As all shou'd be that call on God by Pray'r:
Then, gravely walking on before the Dead,
These few Selected Texts our Rubrick bids him read.
I am the Resurrection, saith the Lord;
Eternal Life the Fruit of my Eternal Word.
Who ever firmly does in Me believe
The Grave shall not confine, nor Hell receive,
But, tho' for Ages dead, shall rise again, and live.
Nor only this; but those that will rely
On what I Teach, Commission'd from on High,
Shall, so Believing, Live; and never, never Dy!
Eternal Life the Fruit of my Eternal Word.
Who ever firmly does in Me believe
The Grave shall not confine, nor Hell receive,
But, tho' for Ages dead, shall rise again, and live.
Nor only this; but those that will rely
On what I Teach, Commission'd from on High,
Shall, so Believing, Live; and never, never Dy!
I know that my Redeemer ever lives,
(And happy, happy He that so Believes!
And that He at the Latter Day shall stand
On Earth, Subjected all to his Command:
And tho' in the mean time the Worms destroy
This Body, it shall then arise to Joy:
Then, in the Flesh, I shall the Almighty see,
And by his Side the Filial Deitie,
Whom (whatsoe'er w' are by the Scepticks told)
I for my self shall see, and with these Eyes behold.
(And happy, happy He that so Believes!
And that He at the Latter Day shall stand
On Earth, Subjected all to his Command:
And tho' in the mean time the Worms destroy
This Body, it shall then arise to Joy:
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And by his Side the Filial Deitie,
Whom (whatsoe'er w' are by the Scepticks told)
I for my self shall see, and with these Eyes behold.
Into this Wretched World we Nothing brought,
Nor ('tis as Certain) shall we bear out Ought:
Naked we came, and Naked we must go;
So, it has ever been, and ever will be so.
'Tis God that gives, and that Resumes the same,
'Tis He that will again Rebuild our Frame:
And Heav'n and Earth resound his Glorious Name.
Nor ('tis as Certain) shall we bear out Ought:
Naked we came, and Naked we must go;
So, it has ever been, and ever will be so.
'Tis God that gives, and that Resumes the same,
'Tis He that will again Rebuild our Frame:
And Heav'n and Earth resound his Glorious Name.
While this is said the Body on they Bear
Into the Church it self, and rest it there.
When by the Priest those Sacred Psalms are read
That tell frail Man how fast his Glories fade:
How like the Withering Grass He shrinks away,
No sooner in Perfection, but Decay:
Green in the Morning, in the Ev'ning dry
The Sap Exhal'd that shou'd the Leaf Supply,
And all the Verdure lost that Charm th'Admiring Eye.
There, in Instructive Love, w' are truly told
That 'tis but Wretched living to be old;
Our Joy but Sorrow, and our Strength but Pain,
And all our Human Expectations vain.
Then least we shou'd be taken unprepar'd,
W'are warn'd to Watch, and stand upon our Guard,
To Wisdom all our Faculties apply,
Number our Days, and Practise how to Dy.
Into the Church it self, and rest it there.
When by the Priest those Sacred Psalms are read
That tell frail Man how fast his Glories fade:
How like the Withering Grass He shrinks away,
No sooner in Perfection, but Decay:
Green in the Morning, in the Ev'ning dry
The Sap Exhal'd that shou'd the Leaf Supply,
And all the Verdure lost that Charm th'Admiring Eye.
There, in Instructive Love, w' are truly told
That 'tis but Wretched living to be old;
Our Joy but Sorrow, and our Strength but Pain,
And all our Human Expectations vain.
Then least we shou'd be taken unprepar'd,
W'are warn'd to Watch, and stand upon our Guard,
To Wisdom all our Faculties apply,
Number our Days, and Practise how to Dy.
Next, (our Attention fixt,) he does repeat
Part of th'Epistle that, (to Corinth Writ,)
Our Resurrection from the Dead asserts,
And with that Hope revives our Doubting Hearts:
Tells us frail Man, that Creature of an Hour,
Tho' Sown in Weakness, shall be Rais'd in Pow'r;
And, from his Grosser Part refin'd and gone,
Put the Bright Crown of Incorruption on.
That Christ, Victorious, the great Mystick King,
Has took from Hell its Pow'r, and Death his Sting:
And if we stedfastly his Steps pursue,
We over Death and Hell shall Triumph too.
Part of th'Epistle that, (to Corinth Writ,)
Our Resurrection from the Dead asserts,
And with that Hope revives our Doubting Hearts:
102
Tho' Sown in Weakness, shall be Rais'd in Pow'r;
And, from his Grosser Part refin'd and gone,
Put the Bright Crown of Incorruption on.
That Christ, Victorious, the great Mystick King,
Has took from Hell its Pow'r, and Death his Sting:
And if we stedfastly his Steps pursue,
We over Death and Hell shall Triumph too.
From thence the Corps they to the Grave Convey,
Where, with uplifted Eyes, the Priest does say,—
Man that from Woman does his Life receive,
Has, at the most, but a short Time to live;
Fades like a Flow'r, like Shadows, flits away,
Like Ranging Bubbles never at a stay:
So slight his Glories, and so frail his Breath,
Ev'n in the mid'st of Life we are in Death.
Of whom then (Lord!) Shall we for Succour call,
Before whose Feet for Mercy prostrate fall
But Thine? But Thine! (In thy Displeasure just)
Who for our Sins dost humble us in Dust.
Yet Holy, Merciful, Almighty God,
Remit thy Terrours, and with-hold thy Rod,
And yield us not, at our Expiring Breath,
Into the bitter Pains of Endless Death,!
Thou dost (O Lord!) Our In-most Secrets see,
Our Thoughts, our Hearts are open all to Thee:
Shut not, O shut not up thy Gracious Ear!
But spare us! Spare us! and Accept our Pray'r,
Look down in Mercy! and in Mercy hear!
O God most Mighty! O most Holy Lord!
Most Worthy Saviour! Judge! Eternal Word!
O Suffer not, when our Last Hour takes place,
For any Pains of Death we fall from Grace!
Where, with uplifted Eyes, the Priest does say,—
Man that from Woman does his Life receive,
Has, at the most, but a short Time to live;
Fades like a Flow'r, like Shadows, flits away,
Like Ranging Bubbles never at a stay:
So slight his Glories, and so frail his Breath,
Ev'n in the mid'st of Life we are in Death.
Of whom then (Lord!) Shall we for Succour call,
Before whose Feet for Mercy prostrate fall
But Thine? But Thine! (In thy Displeasure just)
Who for our Sins dost humble us in Dust.
Yet Holy, Merciful, Almighty God,
Remit thy Terrours, and with-hold thy Rod,
And yield us not, at our Expiring Breath,
Into the bitter Pains of Endless Death,!
Thou dost (O Lord!) Our In-most Secrets see,
Our Thoughts, our Hearts are open all to Thee:
Shut not, O shut not up thy Gracious Ear!
But spare us! Spare us! and Accept our Pray'r,
Look down in Mercy! and in Mercy hear!
O God most Mighty! O most Holy Lord!
Most Worthy Saviour! Judge! Eternal Word!
O Suffer not, when our Last Hour takes place,
For any Pains of Death we fall from Grace!
103
This said, the Dead they to the Earth commit,
To Earth, once more to be a Part of it;
In full and firm Belief it from the Dust
Again shall rise, thro' Christ, our Hope! Our Trust!
Who our Vile Bodies from their Stains will free,
That they may like his Glorious Body be,
According to th'Almighty Pow'r giv'n
By which, with Him, w'are made Joint-Heirs of Heav'n.
To Earth, once more to be a Part of it;
In full and firm Belief it from the Dust
Again shall rise, thro' Christ, our Hope! Our Trust!
Who our Vile Bodies from their Stains will free,
That they may like his Glorious Body be,
According to th'Almighty Pow'r giv'n
By which, with Him, w'are made Joint-Heirs of Heav'n.
Whom wou'd not here a fervent Love excite
To say, what John Divinely did indite?
I heard a Voice from Heav'n thus crying—Write—
Write—Blest are those that in their Saviour Dy—
Ev'n so, the Sacred Spirit does reply;
No more with anxious Thoughts, or Cares distrest,
Lain down in Peace, they from their Labours rest.
To say, what John Divinely did indite?
I heard a Voice from Heav'n thus crying—Write—
Write—Blest are those that in their Saviour Dy—
Ev'n so, the Sacred Spirit does reply;
No more with anxious Thoughts, or Cares distrest,
Lain down in Peace, they from their Labours rest.
Lastly to God (with whom the Spirits live
Of Holy Man) their Thanks they humbly give,
That did, in Mercy, the Deceased free
From all the Miseries of Mortality.
Imploring that He wou'd (their Trials past)
Th'Elect Accomplish, and his Kingdom hast:
Beseeching further, they by Grace may be
Made of the same Selected Company:
That so, at the Last Trumpet's dreadful Sound,
When the re-quickn'd Dead shall cleave the Ground,
They may not Perish in the wild Affright,
But, rising, be accepted in his Sight:
And from th'Eternal Son that Crown receive,
Which He, Presiding, to the Just shall give;
Pronouncing thus to all that Love and Fear
His Holy Name:—Ye Blessed! Enter here!
Receive the Kingdom from the first prepar'd
For Right'ous Souls—Lo! Here Your Bright Reward!
Your Seat a Throne, and Cherubins Your Guard.
Of Holy Man) their Thanks they humbly give,
That did, in Mercy, the Deceased free
From all the Miseries of Mortality.
Imploring that He wou'd (their Trials past)
Th'Elect Accomplish, and his Kingdom hast:
Beseeching further, they by Grace may be
Made of the same Selected Company:
That so, at the Last Trumpet's dreadful Sound,
When the re-quickn'd Dead shall cleave the Ground,
They may not Perish in the wild Affright,
But, rising, be accepted in his Sight:
And from th'Eternal Son that Crown receive,
Which He, Presiding, to the Just shall give;
Pronouncing thus to all that Love and Fear
His Holy Name:—Ye Blessed! Enter here!
Receive the Kingdom from the first prepar'd
For Right'ous Souls—Lo! Here Your Bright Reward!
Your Seat a Throne, and Cherubins Your Guard.
104
What Man cou'd, hearing this be cold in Zeal?
And not a sort of Elevation feel,
When such Divine Discourse his Spirit warms,
His Hope enlarges, and his Patience Arms;
Graving our Ends so deeply on our Hearts,
Not one that hears unedify'd departs.
And not a sort of Elevation feel,
When such Divine Discourse his Spirit warms,
His Hope enlarges, and his Patience Arms;
Graving our Ends so deeply on our Hearts,
Not one that hears unedify'd departs.
Our Rubrick thus. Now your Enthusiast view,
And let us see what He can better do,
That Canting Elder of Your Sullen Crew:
Who following all that's Wrong, and leaving Quite
Our Holy Rules, Commenc'd a Saint in Spite:
Then rising up to be by Blockheads priz'd,
All Truth he darkn'd, and all Sense despis'd.
Peevish quite thro'; for never had a Sot
With Intellects so cold a Head so hot;
And from that Spring his Notions bubbling come,
With heat of Brain boil'd up into a Scum.
His Reason does with his Religion Suit,
And shews us that as once a Speaking Brute
Might by his Language for a Teacher pass,
The Man might here be taken for the Ass.
At Riches rails, and yet to Gain a Slave,
Fool to the Core—But less a Fool than Knave
So sour his Look it turns what he does say,
As Runnet Changes Milk to Curds and Whey.
In fine (no longer on this Theme t'insist)
His Dullness is a thick Egyptian Mist,
A Fog that may be felt; a dismal Night
Of Gloomy Error! Total loss of Sight!—
But in our Goshen, Heav'n be prais'd, there's Light.
And let us see what He can better do,
That Canting Elder of Your Sullen Crew:
Who following all that's Wrong, and leaving Quite
Our Holy Rules, Commenc'd a Saint in Spite:
Then rising up to be by Blockheads priz'd,
All Truth he darkn'd, and all Sense despis'd.
Peevish quite thro'; for never had a Sot
With Intellects so cold a Head so hot;
And from that Spring his Notions bubbling come,
With heat of Brain boil'd up into a Scum.
His Reason does with his Religion Suit,
And shews us that as once a Speaking Brute
Might by his Language for a Teacher pass,
The Man might here be taken for the Ass.
At Riches rails, and yet to Gain a Slave,
Fool to the Core—But less a Fool than Knave
So sour his Look it turns what he does say,
As Runnet Changes Milk to Curds and Whey.
In fine (no longer on this Theme t'insist)
His Dullness is a thick Egyptian Mist,
A Fog that may be felt; a dismal Night
Of Gloomy Error! Total loss of Sight!—
But in our Goshen, Heav'n be prais'd, there's Light.
Thus, Gifted and adorn'd with Graces fit
For such a Charge, methinks I see Him yet,
With the same Dullness pregnant in his Face,
As then when first my Corps was brought in Place;
Where what with Nonsense, and most vile Grimace,
He turn'd it from a Funeral to a Farce.
For such a Charge, methinks I see Him yet,
With the same Dullness pregnant in his Face,
As then when first my Corps was brought in Place;
105
He turn'd it from a Funeral to a Farce.
For, of a sudden, glaring with his Eyes,
(A sign the Spirit was about to rise,)
And with his Fist Discharging on his Breast
A peal of Blows, enough it is confest
T'have rais'd a Spirit both in Man and Beast;
For to be soundly Drubb'd, yet Patient be,
Not Balaam's Pad cou'd bear, and why shou'd He?
But suddenly he burst into a Tone,
That yet was neither Talk, or Scream or Groan,
But made of all; and did resemble best
The out-cry of the Gad'aren Swine possest:
While, as He eagerly pursu'd his Tale,
He foam'd as fluently as Bottl'd Ale,
And threw the Froth of Inspiration round,
Like Holy Water on enchanted Ground.
(A sign the Spirit was about to rise,)
And with his Fist Discharging on his Breast
A peal of Blows, enough it is confest
T'have rais'd a Spirit both in Man and Beast;
For to be soundly Drubb'd, yet Patient be,
Not Balaam's Pad cou'd bear, and why shou'd He?
But suddenly he burst into a Tone,
That yet was neither Talk, or Scream or Groan,
But made of all; and did resemble best
The out-cry of the Gad'aren Swine possest:
While, as He eagerly pursu'd his Tale,
He foam'd as fluently as Bottl'd Ale,
And threw the Froth of Inspiration round,
Like Holy Water on enchanted Ground.
But granting all this while He had his Wits,
What then? can Conscience have Convulsion Fits?
The Hick-up on our Piety take hold?
Or can Religion catch a Hooping Cold?
Thus thus with forcing out, and sucking in
His Nasty Breath, he made this frightful Din;
Screaming as loud as Women in their Pains,
Or, at a Riding, He that flings the Grains:
And all the while his Breast still plying home,
Just as the Devil did the Wiltshire Drum.
What then? can Conscience have Convulsion Fits?
The Hick-up on our Piety take hold?
Or can Religion catch a Hooping Cold?
Thus thus with forcing out, and sucking in
His Nasty Breath, he made this frightful Din;
Screaming as loud as Women in their Pains,
Or, at a Riding, He that flings the Grains:
And all the while his Breast still plying home,
Just as the Devil did the Wiltshire Drum.
So did the Priestess of Apollo rave;
The Fumes ascending strongly from the Cave
O'erpowr'd her Brain; and then the Tempter seiz'd
The Fort, and us'd her Organs as he pleas'd;
While by her Dreadful Voice, and Rolling Eyes,
She does but vouch, and vend His Impious Lyes.
The Fumes ascending strongly from the Cave
O'erpowr'd her Brain; and then the Tempter seiz'd
The Fort, and us'd her Organs as he pleas'd;
While by her Dreadful Voice, and Rolling Eyes,
She does but vouch, and vend His Impious Lyes.
106
Alas! Religion is not to be found
In Fright, Grimace, and in a bellowing sound,
As if 'twere only Noise that Truth adorns;
Like Gelders, pleas'd with winding of their Horns.
Such wild, confus'd, Enthusiastick Starts
Imprint no Charm, or Reve'rence on our Hearts;
But rather shew, as Running Nags and Mares
Must have their Heats, your Teachers, too, have theirs,
And fling, and Switch, and Spur to reach the Goal,
As if they were the Jockeys of the Soul.
In Fright, Grimace, and in a bellowing sound,
As if 'twere only Noise that Truth adorns;
Like Gelders, pleas'd with winding of their Horns.
Such wild, confus'd, Enthusiastick Starts
Imprint no Charm, or Reve'rence on our Hearts;
But rather shew, as Running Nags and Mares
Must have their Heats, your Teachers, too, have theirs,
And fling, and Switch, and Spur to reach the Goal,
As if they were the Jockeys of the Soul.
Sometimes, indeed, the Spirit, restive grown,
Wou'd sink down Sullen to a lower Tone;
But as a Jade a tiring will not Stir
Unless you freely use the Whip and Spur,
So on his Stomach laying but a Blow,
He made the Stream of Nonsense freshly flow:
So Marrow-bones, if beat, the Oyl will run,
And Thunder drives the Rain the faster down.
Wou'd sink down Sullen to a lower Tone;
But as a Jade a tiring will not Stir
Unless you freely use the Whip and Spur,
So on his Stomach laying but a Blow,
He made the Stream of Nonsense freshly flow:
So Marrow-bones, if beat, the Oyl will run,
And Thunder drives the Rain the faster down.
Tempests, we read, the very Rocks disjoyn'd,
But God was not in the Tempestuous Wind:
Earth-quakes the Hills did shake, and Centre tear
With dreadful Flaws, th'Almighty was not there:
The Flames did next to the wide Arch aspire,
Nor yet was God in the Avenging Fire;
But in a Sound that sooner reach'd his Ear,
The Still, small Voice of Piety and Pray'r.
But God was not in the Tempestuous Wind:
Earth-quakes the Hills did shake, and Centre tear
With dreadful Flaws, th'Almighty was not there:
The Flames did next to the wide Arch aspire,
Nor yet was God in the Avenging Fire;
But in a Sound that sooner reach'd his Ear,
The Still, small Voice of Piety and Pray'r.
Such was his Action, to his Language fit,
For ne'er were Words remov'd so far from Wit.
The Matter such, as nothing did Comprize
But a vast heap of Inconsistencies:
No Method, Nothing congruous in the whole,
No Shape, Connexion, Spirit, Life or Soul!
Suppose a Madman, Starting from a Dream,
Shou'd, half awake, assume some freakish Theme,
He sooner wou'd the Parts t'agreement bring,
And make the Whole a more Coherent thing.
Thus (Ramble, Bombast, and all Fume his Brain)
In a most frightfull, wild, and hideous Strain
He talk'd two tedious Hours; but nothing said
That did respect the Living, or the Dead,
That warn'd us for our Changes to prepare,
Or shew'd th'Occasion of their coming there.
For ne'er were Words remov'd so far from Wit.
The Matter such, as nothing did Comprize
But a vast heap of Inconsistencies:
No Method, Nothing congruous in the whole,
No Shape, Connexion, Spirit, Life or Soul!
107
Shou'd, half awake, assume some freakish Theme,
He sooner wou'd the Parts t'agreement bring,
And make the Whole a more Coherent thing.
Thus (Ramble, Bombast, and all Fume his Brain)
In a most frightfull, wild, and hideous Strain
He talk'd two tedious Hours; but nothing said
That did respect the Living, or the Dead,
That warn'd us for our Changes to prepare,
Or shew'd th'Occasion of their coming there.
While thus He bawl'd, full many a Ruful Sigh
His Hearers gave, as if resigning Life.
Some groan'd aloud, and hardly cou'd refrain,
(Th'Inspiring Vapours rising to the Brain,)
To lanch out in the like distracted Strain.
Others, more mild, remov'd from that Extreme,
Sat sniv'ling as their Faith were turn'd to Flegme.
Some gaping stood as if their Mouths were Ears;
(Tho' there's no other Animal that wears
His Luggs so large, and Visible as theirs;)
That 'twou'd have puzzl'd and confounded Thought,
Which was most Brute, the Teacher, or the Taught.
Nonsense You love, and have what you desire,
As Swine, by Choice, wou'd ne'er be out of Mire.
His Hearers gave, as if resigning Life.
Some groan'd aloud, and hardly cou'd refrain,
(Th'Inspiring Vapours rising to the Brain,)
To lanch out in the like distracted Strain.
Others, more mild, remov'd from that Extreme,
Sat sniv'ling as their Faith were turn'd to Flegme.
Some gaping stood as if their Mouths were Ears;
(Tho' there's no other Animal that wears
His Luggs so large, and Visible as theirs;)
That 'twou'd have puzzl'd and confounded Thought,
Which was most Brute, the Teacher, or the Taught.
Nonsense You love, and have what you desire,
As Swine, by Choice, wou'd ne'er be out of Mire.
But tir'd at length, his Fists their Blows forbore;
The Spirit, warn'd by that, did rage no more,
But fainter grew, than with a Hum—gave o'er.
So when a Bag-pipe Player with his Arm
Does cease to ply the Bellows, all the Charm
Is at an end; only the Base does moan
A while, when the In-Breathings lost and gone,
That did Inspire it with the Ruful Tone.
The Spirit, warn'd by that, did rage no more,
But fainter grew, than with a Hum—gave o'er.
So when a Bag-pipe Player with his Arm
Does cease to ply the Bellows, all the Charm
Is at an end; only the Base does moan
A while, when the In-Breathings lost and gone,
That did Inspire it with the Ruful Tone.
108
To close up all, he lastly made it known
That what he had Discours'd was all his own;
That, till he thither came, he pass'd the Day
Without one Previous Thought of what to say;
That the dead Letter sow'd the Seeds of Doubt,
He better knew the Mind of God without;
Nor had among 'em let one Tittle fall
But what came then from Heav'n, Illumination all!
Here (railing at the Learn'd and better read)
The Dust was tumbl'd in upon the Dead.
Then (ev'ry one first Palming of the Guide)
Stupid, Untaught, and so Unedify'd,
They Zealously went off to Beef and Ale;
The only Prudent Part of all the Tale.
That what he had Discours'd was all his own;
That, till he thither came, he pass'd the Day
Without one Previous Thought of what to say;
That the dead Letter sow'd the Seeds of Doubt,
He better knew the Mind of God without;
Nor had among 'em let one Tittle fall
But what came then from Heav'n, Illumination all!
Here (railing at the Learn'd and better read)
The Dust was tumbl'd in upon the Dead.
Then (ev'ry one first Palming of the Guide)
Stupid, Untaught, and so Unedify'd,
They Zealously went off to Beef and Ale;
The only Prudent Part of all the Tale.
Why (O ye Pow'rs!) does Wretched Man abuse
That Gift he may to such Advantage Use?
Reason! that, like the Star, the Pilot's Guide,
Thro' Faith's unbounded Ocean, deep and wide,
Points out the Way, secure from Storm and Tide:
That Light Extinct, which gives our Faith it's Eyes,
We straight encline to all Absurdities;
On Waves of Pride, or of Presumption toss'd,
And wreckt at last upon the horrid Coast,
For where there is no Reason Hope is lost;
And how of Hope can we Idea's frame,
Or Truth, if in our Intellects w'are Lame?
Without our Reason no Religion can
Be Taught, Defended, or Imbib'd by Man,
That is the Base on which our Faith must stand,
That gone, like Water Grasp'd it quits your Hand.
What Path to Happiness can Ideots show?
Or what can Brutes, who have no Reason, know
Of Saving Faith? Or Children at the Breast,
Or those that are Bigotted, or, all one, Possest?
'Tis only those to whom that Guide is giv'n,
And Grace to follow, tread the Path to Heav'n.
That Stamps the Seal on ev'ry Mystery,
Our SAVIOUR's Merits teaches to apply,
To live Resign'd, and so Resign'd to Dy.
That Gift he may to such Advantage Use?
Reason! that, like the Star, the Pilot's Guide,
Thro' Faith's unbounded Ocean, deep and wide,
Points out the Way, secure from Storm and Tide:
That Light Extinct, which gives our Faith it's Eyes,
We straight encline to all Absurdities;
On Waves of Pride, or of Presumption toss'd,
And wreckt at last upon the horrid Coast,
For where there is no Reason Hope is lost;
And how of Hope can we Idea's frame,
Or Truth, if in our Intellects w'are Lame?
Without our Reason no Religion can
Be Taught, Defended, or Imbib'd by Man,
That is the Base on which our Faith must stand,
That gone, like Water Grasp'd it quits your Hand.
What Path to Happiness can Ideots show?
Or what can Brutes, who have no Reason, know
Of Saving Faith? Or Children at the Breast,
Or those that are Bigotted, or, all one, Possest?
109
And Grace to follow, tread the Path to Heav'n.
That Stamps the Seal on ev'ry Mystery,
Our SAVIOUR's Merits teaches to apply,
To live Resign'd, and so Resign'd to Dy.
Thus Reason join'd with Faith can wonders do,
Take in the whole Creation at a View,
To all past, present, and to come extend,
And hope for Glories that must never end.
But Faith without her Guidance can't subsist,
All then is Errour, Wilderness, and Mist:
From thence the Downfall of Religion flows,
For Nothing he Believes that Nothing knows;
And without Reason Nothing can be known,
Not that our Sight, or Hearing are our Own.
Take in the whole Creation at a View,
To all past, present, and to come extend,
And hope for Glories that must never end.
But Faith without her Guidance can't subsist,
All then is Errour, Wilderness, and Mist:
From thence the Downfall of Religion flows,
For Nothing he Believes that Nothing knows;
And without Reason Nothing can be known,
Not that our Sight, or Hearing are our Own.
'Tis true, in some things Faith does take a Flight
Beyond her View, but leaves a Track so Bright,
That Reason follows by the Beams of Light.
Tho' Providence her curious Eye does bar
To see thro' Mysteries—there She sees they are,
Commends 'em to our Faith, which to refuse
For false and spurious, and the true to choose;
And not with Modern Guides, and Modern Crimes,
To blend the Truth of Apostolic Times:
For then the Bounds of our Belief were fixt,
Tho' now broke up, and Lyes to Truth annext
By ev'ry mad Expounder of the Text.
Beyond her View, but leaves a Track so Bright,
That Reason follows by the Beams of Light.
Tho' Providence her curious Eye does bar
To see thro' Mysteries—there She sees they are,
Commends 'em to our Faith, which to refuse
For false and spurious, and the true to choose;
And not with Modern Guides, and Modern Crimes,
To blend the Truth of Apostolic Times:
For then the Bounds of our Belief were fixt,
Tho' now broke up, and Lyes to Truth annext
By ev'ry mad Expounder of the Text.
But Reason you disclaim, and on your Side
Believe You have ev'n an Unfailing Guide,
A Scheme of Truth by Inspiration giv'n,
And Grace Divine Immediately from Heav'n:
That you as near Communication hold
With God, as Peter, or as Paul of old;
So nothing e'er in Publick Teach or Write,
But what th'unerring Spirit does indite.
Believe You have ev'n an Unfailing Guide,
A Scheme of Truth by Inspiration giv'n,
And Grace Divine Immediately from Heav'n:
That you as near Communication hold
With God, as Peter, or as Paul of old;
110
But what th'unerring Spirit does indite.
If so, then all you to the Press commit
Is equally Divine with Sacred Writ:
For all You Teach, like that, must Perfect be,
Done by the same Infallibilitie;
For ev'n those holy Elevated Men,
That Spirit moving, did but hold the Pen.
Is equally Divine with Sacred Writ:
For all You Teach, like that, must Perfect be,
Done by the same Infallibilitie;
For ev'n those holy Elevated Men,
That Spirit moving, did but hold the Pen.
What may w' expect from them that will maintain
Notions so vastly Monstrous and Prophane!
For if the Faith which they pretend is true,
What might they not for its Promulging do?
Their Pow'rfull Word wou'd Devils dispossess,
Convert ev'n Atheists, and whole Nations bless,
The Lame wou'd walk, the Blind unclose their Eyes,
The Sick recover and the Dead arise!
But you no Miracle for Proof can shew,
But that you dare believe your Doctrin true;
Amidst your Blasphemies forgetting quite,
Tho' you are Blind, that others have their Sight.
For if no Man to Heav'n can have pretence
Whose Guide is Knowledge, and whose Creed is Sense;
If Grace is but Enthusiastick Fits,
And Piety resigning of our Wits,
Then Bedlam must be needs the best of Schools,
Enlightn'd with the Trance and Dream of Fools:
There, in Exactest Colours, You may see
A Scheme of Your Infallibility;
There, and there only, may be always shown
A Church that nearest Parallels Your Own.
Notions so vastly Monstrous and Prophane!
For if the Faith which they pretend is true,
What might they not for its Promulging do?
Their Pow'rfull Word wou'd Devils dispossess,
Convert ev'n Atheists, and whole Nations bless,
The Lame wou'd walk, the Blind unclose their Eyes,
The Sick recover and the Dead arise!
But you no Miracle for Proof can shew,
But that you dare believe your Doctrin true;
Amidst your Blasphemies forgetting quite,
Tho' you are Blind, that others have their Sight.
For if no Man to Heav'n can have pretence
Whose Guide is Knowledge, and whose Creed is Sense;
If Grace is but Enthusiastick Fits,
And Piety resigning of our Wits,
Then Bedlam must be needs the best of Schools,
Enlightn'd with the Trance and Dream of Fools:
There, in Exactest Colours, You may see
A Scheme of Your Infallibility;
There, and there only, may be always shown
A Church that nearest Parallels Your Own.
For pray, what can their Madness make 'em do
More than your odious Faith exacts from You?
Can they be easier to Perversness known?
Or with more Spite the Sacrament disown?
That Institution which our Lord enjoyn'd
To keep his Everlasting Love in Mind.
Can they with the Baptismal Vow dispence
With smaller Zeal, or greater Impudence?
That Vow which brings within the Christian Pale
The Chosen Flock, and, certain to Prevail,
Sets us where Heav'n and Endless Life is view'd,
When in the Sacred Eucharist renew'd.
Can Women there, (to strong Illusions sold,)
By Inspiration, louder Preach and Scold?
Make Reason and Religion clash and fight
With Sharper Fangs? till, work'd into a Fright,
They've lost themselves in Prophecy and Light:
Tho' Paul, of old, the Giddy Freak did blame,
And openly reproac'd it as a Shame:
What is it now then, Inspiration lost?
And they no more of various Tongues can boast
By like Effusion of the Holy Ghost?
For of the Spirit (faithful to their Tone)
So little Sign they have in Language shown,
Your very Teachers cannot Spell their Own.
Can they on Dignity Reproaches throw
With more Inveteracy and Gall than You?
Shew less respect to Place, and greater hate
To Sov'raign Edicts and Commands of State?
Tho' w'are for Conscience sake, by Holy Paul,
Advis'd t'Obedience and Submission all;
Our Saviour too enjoyning to obey,
And what is Cæsar's due to Cæsar pay.
Can they (if they had leave to walk the Street)
Shew less Regard to any Friend they meet?
Pass by a Swine, (tho' but a Sullen Brute,)
He'll grunt, which is his Method of Salute.
A Dog to him he knows will wag his Tail,
A Decent Homage that he'll never fail,
How much below a Beast must Mortals be,
If Beasts outdo 'em in Civilitie?
As if, because 'tis said, God do's respect
No Persons, we must utterly reject
All just Behaviour, only meant to shew
Honour, as Paul enjoyns, where Honour's due.
Can to our Priests they viler Language give?
Who by a Law so old their Tithes receive,
And to the Altar bred, must of the Altar live.
True, Scribes and Pharisees by Christ are blam'd;
You call them so who of that Christ are nam'd:
Quite contrary to what our Saviour thought,
And to that Love in which he Liv'd and Taught.
Can they with a more wild and barb'rous Zeal
Think ev'ry Mortal damn'd, beyond Repeal,
That will not walk with them their Rambling Way,
Their Reason quit, and be as mad as they?
Which is so a high a Pitch of Wickedness,
No Thought can reach it, and no Words express;
And, since our Faith began, must be at least
A Million Damn'd for one Believer Blest.
'Tis well for Man that Man's no Deity,
How sad th'Effects of such a Pow'r wou'd be!
Well did that Prince the Gracious Nature scan,
That cry'd, before the Pestilence began,
Let us not fall into the Hands of Man!
More than your odious Faith exacts from You?
111
Or with more Spite the Sacrament disown?
That Institution which our Lord enjoyn'd
To keep his Everlasting Love in Mind.
Can they with the Baptismal Vow dispence
With smaller Zeal, or greater Impudence?
That Vow which brings within the Christian Pale
The Chosen Flock, and, certain to Prevail,
Sets us where Heav'n and Endless Life is view'd,
When in the Sacred Eucharist renew'd.
Can Women there, (to strong Illusions sold,)
By Inspiration, louder Preach and Scold?
Make Reason and Religion clash and fight
With Sharper Fangs? till, work'd into a Fright,
They've lost themselves in Prophecy and Light:
Tho' Paul, of old, the Giddy Freak did blame,
And openly reproac'd it as a Shame:
What is it now then, Inspiration lost?
And they no more of various Tongues can boast
By like Effusion of the Holy Ghost?
For of the Spirit (faithful to their Tone)
So little Sign they have in Language shown,
Your very Teachers cannot Spell their Own.
Can they on Dignity Reproaches throw
With more Inveteracy and Gall than You?
Shew less respect to Place, and greater hate
To Sov'raign Edicts and Commands of State?
Tho' w'are for Conscience sake, by Holy Paul,
Advis'd t'Obedience and Submission all;
Our Saviour too enjoyning to obey,
And what is Cæsar's due to Cæsar pay.
Can they (if they had leave to walk the Street)
Shew less Regard to any Friend they meet?
Pass by a Swine, (tho' but a Sullen Brute,)
He'll grunt, which is his Method of Salute.
112
A Decent Homage that he'll never fail,
How much below a Beast must Mortals be,
If Beasts outdo 'em in Civilitie?
As if, because 'tis said, God do's respect
No Persons, we must utterly reject
All just Behaviour, only meant to shew
Honour, as Paul enjoyns, where Honour's due.
Can to our Priests they viler Language give?
Who by a Law so old their Tithes receive,
And to the Altar bred, must of the Altar live.
True, Scribes and Pharisees by Christ are blam'd;
You call them so who of that Christ are nam'd:
Quite contrary to what our Saviour thought,
And to that Love in which he Liv'd and Taught.
Can they with a more wild and barb'rous Zeal
Think ev'ry Mortal damn'd, beyond Repeal,
That will not walk with them their Rambling Way,
Their Reason quit, and be as mad as they?
Which is so a high a Pitch of Wickedness,
No Thought can reach it, and no Words express;
And, since our Faith began, must be at least
A Million Damn'd for one Believer Blest.
'Tis well for Man that Man's no Deity,
How sad th'Effects of such a Pow'r wou'd be!
Well did that Prince the Gracious Nature scan,
That cry'd, before the Pestilence began,
Let us not fall into the Hands of Man!
Hear me (O Wretch!) this vain Belief give o'er,
And follow thy Fantastick Guides no more:
Back to thy Mother Church and own thy Sin,
She with Extended Arms will take thee in
Weeping for Joy; and, thy Contrition true,
Set the Bright Realm of Glory in thy View:
Where for one single Sinner that returns
To God, and all his past Presumption mourns,
There's more Exulting and Tryumphant show
Than on the Days when Kings are Crown'd below.
And follow thy Fantastick Guides no more:
Back to thy Mother Church and own thy Sin,
She with Extended Arms will take thee in
Weeping for Joy; and, thy Contrition true,
Set the Bright Realm of Glory in thy View:
113
To God, and all his past Presumption mourns,
There's more Exulting and Tryumphant show
Than on the Days when Kings are Crown'd below.
With Reasons strong and plain, (to which I might
Add many more, of equal Force and Weight,)
I've let you see Your Stream of Faith's impure,
And can't the Test of Truth and Sense endure,
But shrinks before 'em, of a Suddain gone,
Like Darkness when the Tide of Light comes on.
Add many more, of equal Force and Weight,)
I've let you see Your Stream of Faith's impure,
And can't the Test of Truth and Sense endure,
But shrinks before 'em, of a Suddain gone,
Like Darkness when the Tide of Light comes on.
Remember (if the Parable y'ave read)
What Abraham to the Fool in Torment said,
And don't this Message Impiously deride,
Least what he spoke shou'd be to you apply'd.
If to the Word (says he) they shut the Ear,
And Moses and the Prophets will not hear,
They'll never be Perswaded Truth is said,
Ev'n tho' one come to tell it from the Dead.
What Abraham to the Fool in Torment said,
And don't this Message Impiously deride,
Least what he spoke shou'd be to you apply'd.
If to the Word (says he) they shut the Ear,
And Moses and the Prophets will not hear,
They'll never be Perswaded Truth is said,
Ev'n tho' one come to tell it from the Dead.
But see! the Morning do's her Beams display,
And warns me upward to a Brighter Day!
Believe like me, that you may thither rise,
And follow this Ascension thro' the Skies.
[Ascends swiftly out of Sight.
And warns me upward to a Brighter Day!
Believe like me, that you may thither rise,
And follow this Ascension thro' the Skies.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |