Occasional verse, moral and sacred Published for the instruction and amusement of the Candidly Serious and Religious [by Edward Perronet] |
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RELIGION,
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 | Occasional verse, moral and sacred |  |
RELIGION,
A CYPHER.
I
Look round the globe, and looking see,How few have been, or being be,
That seek their real good:
By passion bound, or slaves to sin,
Tho' gay without, oft wreck'd within,
As satyrs of the wood.
II
The gifts of nature, wealth, or time,In riper age, or manlier prime,
Absorpt in pleasure's lore;
From childhood's infancy to youth,
To falsehood prone, averse to truth,
The Circean cup runs o'er.
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III
Save where hard Hunger's meagre fare,Necessity's corroding care,
Compels to labour's gain;
The whole employment and intent,
Is one invention to prevent
The heart from thinking pain.
IV
Hence various means and modes employ'd,To please what is so often cloy'd
By pleasure's sad return;
The longings of th'immortal mind,
To thirst for higher joys design'd,
And will for ever burn.
V
Hence Luxury's wild extravagance,That spares nor labour nor expence
To scale the feeling breast;
Prevent the heart from solemn thought,
Lest, by its want, to thinking brought,
It seek a better rest.
VI
Nay e'en Religion's moral veil,Is but the painting of a shell,
From whence the substance flown;
Or formal statue, sculptur'd fine,
Made by the artist's hand to shine
An hypocrite of stone.
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VII
Such is the state, and such the case,Of myriads of the immortal race,
All sons of high renown;
Deceiving, and alike deceiv'd,
They live as of all sense bereav'd,
Then die to live undone.
VIII
But this not all—there's still a worse,A sorer, and a sadder curse,
That's in religion found;
Where e'en its votaries are seen,
God and the world to split between,
Unhallow'd as unsound.
IX
Its priests and preachers, proud or vain,Read for reward, then spell for gain,
The harvest of an hour:
The Gospel, mangled or conceal'd,
Or little more than half reveal'd,
Conveys as little pow'r.
X
The hearers dead, or half asleep,Do but a drowsy vigil keep,
E'en at the noon of day;
Feel much the same of grace or sin,
Then nod their salutation, grin,
And thus conclude the play.
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XI
But, oh! thou jealous god, and true,Thou know'st this must, and shall not do;
Thy thunders speak thy wrath:
Arise then, for thy glory's sake,
Into thy hands the matter take,
And break the enfetter'd sloth.
XII
Arise, and by thy pow'r divine,Command the light once more to shine,
And every cloud dispel;
O'er all the earth thy spirit pour,
Till earth shall feel the glorious show'r,
And Heav'n the wonder tell!
| Occasional verse, moral and sacred | |