Danger of first indulging in Pleasure,

For though, ere yet the shaft is on the wing,
Or when it first forsakes th' elastic string,
It err but little from th' intended line,
It falls at last far wide of his design:
So he, who seeks a mansion in the sky,
Must watch his purpose with a stedfast eye;
That prize belongs to none but the sincere,
The least obliquity is fatal here.

'With caution taste thee sweet Circean cup:

He that sips often, at last drinks it

up.

Habits are soon assum'd; but, when we strive
To strip them off, 'tis being flay'd alive.
Call'd to the temple of impure delight,
He that abstains, and he alone, does right.
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;

and Difficulty of relinquishing it.

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,

The Cross the only Refuge from Despair.

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 fuffice

The 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.

Just know, and knows no more. her Bible true"

London Published by S. Addity Ivy Lane. 1813.

Fruth