Cleans'd in thine own all-purifying blood,
Forgive their evil and accept their good;
I caft 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 fhall 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,

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In England's cafe to move the mufe to tears?
From fide to fide of her delightful isle,
Is the not cloath'd with a perpetual smile?
Can nature add a charm, or art confer
A new

ew found luxury not feen in her?
Where under heav'n is pleasure more pursued,
Or where does cold reflection lefs intrude?
Her fields a rich expanfe of wavy corn
Pour'd out from plenty's overflowing horn
Ambrofial gardens in which art fupplies
The fervor and the force of Indian skies;


Her peaceful shores, where bufy commerce waits
To pour his golden tide through all her gates;
Whom fiery funs that scorch the rufset spice
Of eastern groves, and oceans floor'd with ice,
Forbid in vain to push his daring way
To darker climes, or climes of brighter day;
Whom the winds waft where'er the billows roll,
From the world's girdle to the frozen pole;
The chariots bounding in her wheel-worn ftreets,
Her vaults below where ev'ry vintage meets,
Her theatres, her revels, and her sports,
The scenes to which not youth alone resorts,
But age in spite of weakness and of pain
Still haunts, in hope to dream of youth again,
All speak her happy-let the muse look round
From East to Weft, no forrow can be found,
Or only what in cottages confin'd

Sighs unregarded to the paffing wind;

Then wherefore weep for England, what appears
In England's cafe to move the muse to tears?
The prophet wept for Ifrael, with'd his eyes
Were fountains fed with infinite fupplies;
For Ifrael dealt in robbery and wrong,

There were the scorner's and the fland'rer's tongue;
Oaths used as playthings or convenient tools,

As int'reft biafs'd knaves, or fashion fools;


Adult'ry neighing at his neighbour's door,
Oppreffion labouring hard to grind the poor,
The partial balance and deceitful weight,
The treach'rous fmile, a mask for fecret hate,
Hypocrify, formality in pray'r,

And the dull fervice, of the lip were there.
Her women infolent and felf-carefs'd,
By vanity's unwearied finger drefs'd,
Forgot the blush that virgin fears impart
To modeft cheeks, and borrow'd one from art;
Were just fuch trifles, without worth or use,
As filly pride and idleness produce:

Curl'd, fcented, furbelow'd and flounc'd around,
With feet too delicate to touch the ground,

They stretch'd the neck, and roll'd the wanton eye,
And figh'd for ev'ry fool that flutter'd by.
He faw his people flaves to ev'ry lust,
Lewd, avaricious, arrogant, unjust,
He heard the wheels of an avenging God
Groan heavily along the distant road;
Saw Babylon fet wide her two leav'd brass,
To let the military deluge pafs;

Jerufalem a prey, her glory foil'd,

Her princes captive, and her treasures spoil'd;
Wept till all Ifrael heard his bitter cry,

Stamp'd with his foot and fmote upon his thigh;


But wept, and stamp'd, and smote his thigh in vain,
Pleasure is deaf when told of future pain,
And founds prophetic are too rough to suit
Ears long accustom'd to the pleasing lute;
They fcorn'd his infpiration and his theme,
Pronounc'd him frantic and his fears a dream;
With felf-indulgence wing'd the fleeting hours,
'Till the foe found them, and down fell the tow'rs.
Long time Affyria bound them in her chain,
Till penitence had purg'd the public ftain,
And Cyrus, with relenting pity mov'd,
Return'd them happy to the land they lov'd:
There, proof against profperity, awhile
They stood the test of her ensnaring smile,
And had the grace in fcenes of peace to show
The virtue they had learn'd in scenes of woe.
But man is frail, and can but ill sustain
A long immunity from grief and pain,
And after all the joys that plenty leads,
With tip-toe ftep vice filently fucceeds.

When he that rul'd them with a fhepherd's rod,
In form a man, in dignity a God,
Came, not expected in that humble guise,
To fift, and fearch them with unerring eyes,
He found conceal'd beneath a fair outfide,
The filth of rottennefs and worm of pride;

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