MAN, on the dubious waves of error toss'd, His ship half founder'd, and his compass lost, Sees, far as human optics 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, philosophic dreams; VOL. 1.
Grace leads the right Way.
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.
Oh 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, Majestic in its own simplicity. Inscrib'd above the portal, from afar Conspicuous as the brightness of a star,
The Necessity of Faith to attain Salvation.
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?
Folly of Ostentation contrasted with Modesty.
Sit long and late at the carousing board?
(Such were the sins with which he charg'd his Lord.) What then?
No-the man's morals were exact.
'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 music 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 mein To the close copse, or far-sequester'd green, And shines, without desiring to be seen,
Solitary Devotion to religious Offices condemned.
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 ; In shirt of hair and weeds of canvass dress'd, Girt with a bell-rope that the pope has bless'd; Adust with stripes, told out for ev'ry crime, And sore tormented, long before his time; His pray'r preferr'd to saints that cannot aid; His praise postpon'd, and never to be paid ; See the sage hermit, by mankind admir'd, With all that bigotry adopts inspir'd, Wearing out life in his religious whim, 'Till his religious whimsey wears out him.
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