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And equity; not jealous more to guard
A worthless form, than to decide aright:
Where fashion shall not fanctify abuse,
Nor smooth good-breeding (supplemental grace)
With lean performance ape the work of love !

Come then, and added to thy many crowns, Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth, Thou who alone art worthy! It was thine By ancient covenant, ere nature's birth; And thou hast made it thine by purchase fince, And overpaid its value with thy blood. Thy faints proclaim thee king; and in their hearts Thy title is engraven with a pen Dipt in the fountain of eternal love. Thy faints proclaim see king; and thy delay Gives courage to their foes, who, could they see The dawn of thy last advent, long-defired, Would creep into the bowels of the hills, And flee for lafety to the falling rocks. The very spirit of the world is tired Of its own taunting question, asked so long, “ Where is the promise of your Lord's approach ?" The infidel has shot his bolts away, Till his exhausted quiver yielding none, He gleans the blunted shafts, that have recoiled,

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And aims them at the shield of truth again.
The veil is rent, rent too by priestly hands,
That hides divinity from mortal eyes;
And all the mysteries to faith proposed,
Insulted and traduced, are caft aside,
As useless, to the moles and to the bats.
They now are deemed the faithful, and are praised,
Who constant only in rejecting thee,
Deny thy Godhead with a' martyr's zeal,
And yuit their office for their error's sake.
Blind, and in love with darkness! yet even these
Worthy, compared with sycophants, who knee
Thy name adoring, and then preach thee man!
So fares thy church. But how thy church may fare
The world takes little thought. Who will may preach,
And what they will. All pastors are alike
To wandering sheep, resolved to follow none.
Two gods divide them all-Pleafure and Gain:
For these they live, they facrifice to these,
And in their service wage perpetual war
With conscience and with thee. Luft in their hearts,
And mischief in their hands, they roam the earth
To prey upon each other : ftubborn, fierce,
High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace.
Thy prophets fpeak of such; and, noting down
The features of the laft degenerate times,

Exhibit every lineament of these.
Come then, and added to thy many crowns,
Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest,
Due to thy last and moft effectual work,
Thy word fulfilled, the conquest of a world!

He is the happy man,

whose life e'en now Shows somewhat of that happier life to come; Who, doomed to an obfcure but tranquil state, Is pleafed with it, and, were he free to choose, Would make his fate his choice; whom peace, thefruit Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith, Prepare for happiness; bespeak him one Content indeed to sojourn while he must Below the skies, but having there his home. The world o'erlooks him in her busy search Of objects, more illustrious in her view; And, occupied as earnestly as she, Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the world. She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not; He fecks not her's, for he has proved them vain. He cannot skim the ground like summer birds Pursuing gilded flies; and such he deems Her honours, her emoluments, her joys. Therefore in contemplation is his bliss, Whose power is such, that whom she lifts from earth

She makes familiar with a heaven unseen,
And shows him glories yet to be revealed.
Not Nothful he, though seeming unemployed,
And censured oft as useless. Stilleft ftreams
Oft water faireft meadows, and the bird,
That futters leaft, is longest on the wing.
Ask him, indeed, what trophies he has raised,
Or what achievements of immortal fame
He purposes, and he shall answer--None.
His warfare is within. There unfatigued
His fervent fpirit labours. There he fights,
And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself,
And never withering wreaths, compared with which
The laurels that a Cæfar reaps are weeds.
Perhaps the self-approving haughty world,
That as she sweeps him with her whistling filks
Scarce deigns to notice him, or, if the fee,
Deems him a cypher in the works of God,
Receives advantage from his noiselefs hours,
Of which she litile dreams. Perhaps the owes
Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring
And plenteous harvest, to the prayer he makes,
When, Isaac like, the folitary saint
Walks forth to meditate at even-tide,
And think on her, who thinks not for herself.
Forgive him then, thou buftler in concerns

Of little worth, an idler in the beft, If, author of no mischief and some good, He seek his proper happiness by means, That may advance, but cannot hinder, thine. Nor, though he tread the fecret path of life, Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease, Account him an incumbrance on the state, Receiving benefits, and rendering none. His fphere though humble, if that humble sphere Shine with his fair example, and though small His influence, if that influence all be spent In soothing forrow and in quenching strife, In aiding helpless indigence, in works, From which at least a grateful few derive Some taste of comfort in a world of wo, Then let the supercilious grcat confess He serves his country, recompenses well The ftate, beneath the shadow of whose vine He fits secure, and in the scale of life Holds no ignoble, though a slighted, place. The man, whose virtues are more felt than seen, Must drop indeed the hope of public praise ; But he may boast what few that win it can, That if his country stand not by his skill, At least his follies have not wrought her fall. Polite refinement offers him in vain

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