And, joining the free-thinkers brutal roar,
Swallow the two grand noftrums they difpenfe-
That scripture lies, and blafphemy is sense.
If clemency revolted by abuse
Be damnable, then damn'd without excufe.
Some dream that they can filence when they will
The ftorm of paffion, and fay, Peace, be ftill;
But " Thus far and no farther," when addrefs'd
To the wild wave, or wilder human breast,
Implies authority that never can,
That never ought to be the lot of man.
But, mufe, forbear; long flights forebode a fall;
Strike on the deep-ton'd chord the fum of all.
Hear the juft law-the judgment of the skies!
He that hates truth fhall be the dupe of lies:
And he that will be cheated to the last,
Delusions, strong as hell, fhall bind him fast.
But, if the wand'rer his mistake discern,
Judge his own ways, and figh for a return,
Bewilder'd once, must he bewail his lofs
For ever and for ever? No-the cross!
There, and there only (though the deist rave,
And atheist, if earth bear fo base a slave);
There, and there only, is the pow'r to fave.
There no delufive 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 feen, is death to ev'ry vice:
Elfe he that hung there fuffer'd all his pain,
Bled, groan'd, and agoniz'd, and died, in vain,
shall make
MAN, on the dubious waves of error tofs'd,
His fhip half founder'd, and his compass loft,
Sees, far as human optics may command,
A fleeping fog, and fancies it dry land:
Spreads all his canvafs, ev'ry finew plies;
Pants for't, aims at it, enters it, and dies!
Then farewell all felf-fatisfying schemes,
His well-built systems, philofophic dreams;
Deceitful views of future blifs, farewell!
He reads his fentence at the flames of hell.
Hard lot of man-to toil for the reward
Of virtue, and yet lofe it! Wherefore hard?-
He that would win the race must guide his horse
Obedient to the customs of the course;
Elfe, 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 fufficient, and left free,
Your wilful fuicide on God's decree.
Oh how unlike the complex works of man,
Heav'n's easy, artlefs, unincumber'd, plan!
No meretricious graces to beguile,
No cluft'ring ornaments to clog the pile;
From oftentation, as from weakness, free,
It ftands like the cerulean arch we fee,
Majestic in its own fimplicity.
Infcrib'd above the portal, from afar
Confpicuous as the brightness of a star,
Legible only by the light they give,
Stand the foul-quick'ning words-BELIEVE, AND LIVE! Too many, fhock'd at what should charm them most, Defpife the plain direction, and are lost.
Heav'n on fuch terms! (they cry, with proud difdain) Incredible, impoffible, and vain!
Rebel, because 'tis eafy to obeys
And scorn, for its own fake, the gracious way.
These are the fober, in whofe cooler brains
Some thought of immortality remains ;
The reft, too bufy, or too gay, to wait
On the fad theme, their everlasting state,
Sport for a day, and perish in a night;
The foam upon the waters not fo light.
Who judg'd the pharifee? What odious cause
Expos'd him to the vengeance of the laws?
Had he feduc'd a virgin, wrong'd a friend,
Or ftabb'd a man to serve some private end?
Was blafphemy his fin? Or did he ftray
From the ftrict duties of the facred day?
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