If a wish wander that way, call it home;
He cannot long be safe whose wishes roam.
But, if you pass the threshold, you are caught;
Die then, if pow'r Almighty save you not.
There hard'ning by degrees, till double steel'd,
Take leave of nature's God, and God reveal'd;
Then laugh at all you trembled at before;
And, joining the free-thinkers brutal roar,
Swallow the two grand nostrums they dispense-
That Scripture lies, and blasphemy is sense:
If clemency revolted by abuse

Be damnable, then damn'd without excuse.
Some dream that they can silence, when they
will,

The storm of passion, and say, Peace be still; But" Thus far and no farther," when address'd To the wild wave, or wilder human breast, Implies authority that never can,

That never ought to be the lot of man.

But muse forbear; long flights forebode a fall; Strike on the deep-ton'd chord the sum of all. Hear the just law-the judgment of the skies! He that hates truth shall be the dupe of lies: And he that will be cheated to the last, Delusions strong as Hell shall bind him fast. But if the wand'rer his mistake discern, Judge his own ways, and sigh for a return, Bewilder'd once, must he bewail his loss For ever and for ever? No-the cross! There and there only (though the deist rave, And atheist, if Earth bear so base a slave); There and there only is the pow'r to save.

There no delusive hope invites despair;

No mock'ry meets you, no deception there. The spells and charms, that blinded you before, All vanish there, and fascinate no more.

I am no preacher, let this hint sufficeThe cross once seen is death to ev'ry vice: Else he that hung there suffer'd all his pain, Bled, groan'd, and agoniz'd, and died, in vain.

TRUTH.

Pensantur trutina. Hor. Lib. ii. Epist. 1.

MAN, on the dubious waves of errour toss❜d, His ship half-founder'd, and his compass lost, Sees, far as human opticks may command, A sleeping fog, and fancies it dry land: Spreads all his canvass, ev'ry sinew plies; Pants for 't, aims at it, enters it, and dies! Then farewell all self-satisfying schemes, His well-built systems, philosophick dreams; Deceitful views of future bliss farewell!He reads his sentence at the flames of Hell. Hard lot of man-to toil for the reward Of virtue, and yet lose it! Wherefore hard? He that would win the race must guide his horse Obedient to the customs of the course; Else, though unequall'd to the goal he flies, A meaner than himself shall gain the prize. Grace leads the right way: if you choose the wrong, Take it and perish; but restrain your tongue; Charge not, with light sufficient, and left free, Your wilful suicide on God's decree.

O how unlike the complex works of man,
Heav'n's easy, artless, unincumber'd plan!
No meretricious graces to beguile,

No clust'ring ornaments to clog the pile;
From ostentation as from weakness free,
It stands like the cerulean arch we see,
Majestick in its own simplicity.

Inscrib'd above the portal, from afar
Conspicuous as the brightness of a star,
Legible only by the light they give,

Stand the soul-quick'ning words-Believe and live. Too many shock'd at what should charm them most,

Despise the plain direction, and are lost.

Heav'n on such terms! (they cry with proud disdain,)

Incredible, impossible, and vain

Rebel, because 'tis easy to obey;

And scorn, for its own sake, the gracious way.
These are the sober, in whose cooler brains
Some thought of immortality remains;
The rest, too busy or too gay to wait
On the sad theme, their everlasting state,
Sport for a day, and perish in a night,
The foam upon the waters not so light.

Who judg'd the pharisee? What odious cause
Expos'd him to the vengeance of the laws?
Had he seduc'd a virgin, wrong'd a friend,
Or stabb❜d a man to serve some private end?
Was blasphemy his sin? Or did he stray
From the strict duties of the sacred day?

Sit long and late at the carousing board?

(Such were the sins with which he charg❜d his

Lord.)

No-the man's morals were exact, what then?
'Twas his ambition to be seen of men;

His virtues were his pride; and that one vice
Made all his virtues gewgaws of no price;
He wore them as fine trappings for a show,
A praying, synagogue-frequenting beau.
The self-applauding bird, the peacock, see-
Mark what a sumptuous pharisee is he!
Meridian sun-beams tempt him to unfold
His radiant glories, azure, green, and gold:
He treads as if, some solemn musick near,
His measur'd step were govern'd by his ear:
And seems to say-Ye meaner fowl, give place,
I am all splendour, dignity, and grace!

Not so the pheasant on his charms presumes,
Though he too has a glory in his plumes.
He, christian like, retreats with modest mien
To the close copse, or far-sequester'd green,
And shines without desiring to be seen.
The plea of works, as arrogant and vain,
Heav'n turns from with abhorrence and disdain;
Not more affronted by avow'd neglect,
Than by the mere dissembler's feign'd respect.
What is all righteousness that men devise?
What--but a sordid bargain for the skies?
But Christ as soon would abdicate his own,
As stoop from Heav'n to sell the proud a throne.
His dwelling a recess in some rude rock,
Book, beads, and maple dish, his meagre stock;