Wisdom and goodness are twin born, one heart Must hold both sisters, never seen apart. So then-as darkness overspread the deep, Ere nature rose from her eternal sleep, And this delightful earth, and that fair sky, Leaped out of nothing, called by the Most High; By such a change thy darkness is made light, Thy chaos order, and thy weakness might; And He, whose power mere nullity obeys, Who found thee nothing, formed thee for his praise. To praise him is to serve him, and fulfil, Doing and suffering, his unquestioned will; 'Tis to believe what men inspired of old, Faithful, and faithfully informed, unfold; Candid and just, with no false aim in view, To take for truth what cannot but be true; To learn in God's own school the Christian part, And bind the task assigned thee to thine heart: Happy the man there seeking and there found, Happy the nation where such men abound.

How shall a verse impress thee? by what name Shall I adjure thee not to court thy shame?

By theirs, whose bright example unimpeached
Directs thee to that eminence they reached,
Heroes and worthies of days past, thy sires?
Or his, who touched their hearts with hallowed fires?
Their names, alas! in vain reproach an age,
Whom all the vanities they scorned engage;
And his, that seraphs tremble at, is hung
Disgracefully on every trifler's tongue,
Or serves the champion in forensic war
To flourish and parade with at the bar.
Pleasure herself perhaps suggests a plea,
If interest move thee, to persuade even thee;
By every charm, that smiles upon her face,
By joys possessed, and joys still held in chase,
If dear society be worth a thought,

And if the feast of freedom cloy thee not,

Reflect that these, and all that seems thine own, Held by the tenure of his will alone,

Like angels in the service of their Lord,

Remain with thee, or leave thee at his word;
That gratitude and temperance in our use

Of what he gives, unsparing and profuse,

Secure the favour, and enhance the joy,
That thankless waste and wild abuse destroy.
But above all reflect, how cheap soe'er

Those rights, that millions envy thee, appear,
And, though resolved to risk them, and swim down
The tide of pleasure, heedless of his frown,
That blessings truly sacred, and when given
Marked with the signature and stamp of heaven,
The word of prophecy, those truths divine,
Which make that heaven, if thou desire it, thine,
(Awful alternative! believed, beloved,

Thy glory, and thy shame if unimproved)
Are never long vouchsafed, if pushed aside
With cold disgust or philosophic pride;
And that, judicially withdrawn, disgrace,
Error, and darkness, occupy their place.

A world is up in arms, and thou, a spot
Not quickly found if negligently sought,
Thy soul as ample as thy bounds are small,
Endurest the brunt, and darest defy them all:
And wilt thou join to this bold enterprize
A bolder still, a contest with the skies?

Remember, if he guard thee and secure,

Whoever assails thee, thy success is sure;
But if he leave thee, though the skill and power
Of nations, sworn to spoil thee and devour,
Were all collected in thy single arm,

And thou couldst laugh away the fear of harm,
That strength would fail, opposed against the push
And feeble onset of a pigmy rush.

Say not (and if the thought of such defence Should spring within thy bosom, drive it thence) What nation amongst all my foes is free

From crimes as base as any charged on me?
Their measure filled, they too shall pay the debt
Which God, though long forborn, will not forget.
But know that wrath divine, when most severe,
Makes justice still the guide of his career,
And will not punish, in one mingled crowd,
Them without light, and thee without a cloud.

Muse, hang this harp upon yon aged beech, Still murmuring with the solemn truths I teach; And while at intervals a cold blast sings

Through the dry leaves, and pants upon the strings,

My soul shall sigh in secret, and lament
A nation scourged, yet tardy to repent.

I know the warning song is sung in vain,
That few will hear and fewer heed the strain;
But if a sweeter voice, and one designed

A blessing to my country and mankind,
Reclaim the wandering thousands, and bring home
A flock so scattered and so wont to roam,
Then place it once again between my knees;
The sound of truth will then be sure to please:
And truth alone, wherever my life be cast,
In scenes of plenty or the pining waste,

Shall be my chosen theme, my glory to the last.