The most profligate may be reclaimed.

Herself, from morn to night, from night to morn,
Her own abhorrence, and as much your scorn!
The gracious show'r, unlimited and free,

Shall fall on her, when heav'n denies it thee.
Of all that wisdom dictates, this the drift-
That man is dead in sin, and life a gift.

Is virtue, then, unless of Christian growth,
Mere fallacy, or foolishness, or both?
Ten thousand sages lost in endless woe,
For ignorance of what they could not know?
That speech betrays at once a bigot's tongue-
Charge not a God with such outrageous wrong!
Truly, not 1-the partial light men have,

My creed persuades me, well employed, may save;
While he that scorns the noon-day beam, perverse,
Shall find the blessing, unimprov'd, a curse.
Let heathen worthies, whose exalted mind

Left sensuality and dross behind,

Possess, for me, their undisputed lot,

And take, unenvied, the reward they sought.

The Heathens had Wisdom of celestial Origin.

But still, in virtue of a Saviour's plea,
Not blind by choice, but destin'd not to see.
Their fortitude and wisdom were a flame
Celestial, though they knew not whence it came,
Deriv'd from the same source of light and grace
That guides the Christian in his swifter race.
Their judge was conscience, and her rule their law:
That rule, pursued with rev'rence and with awe,
Led them, however fault'ring, faint, and slow,
From what they knew to what they wish'd to know.
But let not him that shares a brighter day
Traduce the splendour of a noon-tide ray,
Prefer the twilight of a darker time,
And deem his base stupidity no crime;

The wretch, who slights the bounty of the skies,
And sinks, while favour'd with the means to rise,
Shall find them rated at their full amount,

The good he scorn'd all carried to account.
Marshalling all his terrors as he came ;

Thunder, and earthquake, and devouring flame;

but not so active and illuminated as Christians.

From Sinai's top Jehovah gave the law-
Life for obedienc-death for ev'ry flaw.
When the great Sov'reign would his will express,
He gives a perfect rule; what can he less?
And guards it with a sanction as severe
As vengeance can inflict, or sinners fear:
Else his own glorious rights he would disclaim,
And man might safely trifle with his name.
He bids him glow with unremitting love

To all on earth, and to himself above;
Condemns th' injurious deed, the sland'rous tongue,
The thought that meditates a brother's
wrong:
Brings not alone the more conspicuous part-
His conduct-to the test, but tries his heart.

Hark! universal nature shook and groan'd,
'Twas the last trumpet-see the Judge enthron'd:
Rouse all your courage at your utmost need;
Now summon ev'ry virtue-stand, and plead.
What! silent? Is your boasting heard no more?
That self-renouncing wisdom, learn'd before,

The transcendent Joy of Believers.

Had shed immortal glories on your brow,
That all your virtues cannot purchase now.
All joy to the believer! He can speak—
Trembling, yet happy; confident, yet meek.
Since the dear hour that brought me to thy foot,
And cut up all my follies by the root,

I never trusted in an arm but thine,
Nor hop'd, but in thy righteousness divine:
My pray'rs and alms, imperfect, and defil'd,
Were but the feeble efforts of a child;
Howe'er perform'd, it was their brightest part
That they proceeded from a grateful heart:
Cleans'd in thine own all-purifying blood,
Forgive their evil, and accept their good
I cast them at thy feet-my only plea
Is what it was-dependence upon thee:
While struggling in the vale of tears below,
That never fail'd, nor shall it fail me now,
Angelic gratulations rend the skies:

Pride falls unpitied, never more to rise;
Humility is crown'd; and faith receives the prize.

In England's case to move the muse to tears?
From side to side of her delightful isle,
Is she not cloth'd with a perpetual smile?
Can nature add a charm, or art confer
A new-found luxury not seen in her?