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Weave such agreeing truths? or how, or why
Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie?
Unask'd their pains, ungrateful their advice,
Starving their gain, and martyrdom their price?

If on the Book itself we cast our view,
Concurrent heathens prove the story true;
The doctrine, miracles, which must convince,
For Heav'n in them appeals to common sense;
And though they prove not, they confirm the cause,
When what is taught agrees with nature's laws.

Then for the style, majestie and divine,
It speaks no less than GOD in ev'ry line:
Commanding words; whose face is still the same
As the first fiat that produc'd our frame.
All faiths beside, or did by arms ascend,

Or sense indulg'd has made mankind their friend :
This only doctrine does our lusts oppose;
Unfed by nature's soil in which it grows;
Cross to our int'rests, curbing sense and sin,
Oppress'd without, and undermin'd within,
It thrives through pain, its own tormentors tires,
And with a stubborn patience still aspires.

To what can reason such effects assign
Transcending nature, but to laws divine?
Which in that sacred Volume are contain'd;
Sufficient, clear, and for that use ordain'd.

THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD PARSON.-
Imitated from Chaucer.

A parish priest was of the pilgrim-train,
An awful, reverend, and religious man;
diffused a venerable grace,
And charity itself was in his face.

His

eyes

Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor;
(As God had clothed His own ambassador ;)
For such, on earth, His blessed REDEEMER bore.
Of sixty years he seemed, and well might last
To sixty more, but that he lived too fast;
Refined himself to soul, to curb the sense;
'And made almost a sin of abstinence.
Yet had his aspect nothing of severe,
But such a face as promised him sincere.
Nothing reserved or sullen was to see,
But sweet regards and pleasing sanctity;
Mild was his accent, and his action free.
With eloquence innate his tongue was armed;
Tho' harsh the precept, yet the preacher charmed':
For, letting down the golden chain from high,
He drew his audience upward to the sky;
And oft with holy hymns he charmed their ears,
(A music more melodious than the spheres.)
For David left him, when he went to rest,
His lyre; and after him, he sung the best.
He bore his great commission in his look,
But sweetly tempered awe, and softened all he spoke.

He preached the joys of heaven, and pains of hell,
And warned the sinner with becoming zeal,
But on eternal mercy loved to dwell.

He taught the Gospel rather than the Law,
And forced himself to drive; but loved to draw.
For fear but freezes minds; but love, like heat,
Exhales the soul sublime, to seek her native seat.
To threats the stubborn sinner oft is hard,
Wrapped in his crimes, against the storm prepared;
But, when the milder beams of mercy play,
He melts, and throws his cumb'rous cloak away.
Lightnings and thunder (Heaven's artillery)
As harbingers before th' ALMIGHTY fly:
Those but proclaim his stile, and disappear;
The stiller sound succeeds, and GOD is there.
The tythes, his parish freely paid, he took;
But never sued, or cursed with bell and book.
With patience bearing wrong, but off'ring none,
Since ev'ry man is free to lose his own.
The country-churls, according to their kind,
(Who grudge their dues, and love to be behind,)
The less he sought his off'rings, pinched the more,
And praised a priest contented to be poor.

Yet, of his little he had some to spare,
To feed the famished, and to clothe the bare;
For mortified he was to that degree,

A poorer than himself he would not see.

True priests, he said, and preachers of the word, Were only stewards of their sov'reign LORD; Nothing was their's, but all the public store: Intrusted riches, to relieve the poor.

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Who, should they steal for want of his relief,
He judged himself accomplice with the thief.

Wide was his parish; not contracted close
In streets, but here and there a straggling house;
Yet still he was at hand, without request,
To serve the sick, to succour the distressed:
Tempting on foot, alone, without affright,
The dangers of a dark tempestuous night.

All this the good old man performed alone,
Nor spared his pains; for curate he had none,
Nor durst he trust another with his care;
Nor rode himself to Paul's, the public fair :
But duly watched his flock, by night and day,
And from the prowling wolf redeemed the prey,
And hungry sent the wily fox away.

The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheer'd,
Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd.
His preaching much, but more his practice, wrought;
(A living sermon of the truths he taught ;)
For this by rules severe his life he squar'd,
That all might see the doctrine which they heard.
For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest,
The gold of Heaven, who bear the GOD imprest;
But when the precious coin is kept unclean,
The Sov'reign's image is no longer seen.
If they be foul, on whom the people trust,
Well may the baser brass contract a rust.
The prelate, for his holy life, he priz'd;
The worldly pomp of prelacy despis'd.

His SAVIOUR came not with a gaudy show,
Nor was his kingdom of the world below.
Patience in want, and poverty of mind,

These marks of Church and Churchmen He design'd,
And living taught, and dying left behind.

The crown He wore was of the pointed thorn;
In purple He was crucified, not born.

They who contend for place and high degree,
Are not His sons, but those of Zebedee.

Not, but he knew the signs of earthly power
Might well become Saint Peter's successor :
The holy father holds a double reign,-

The prince may keep his pomp; the fisher must be plain.

Such was the saint who shone with ev'ry grace,
Reflecting, Moses-like, his MAKER's face.
GOD saw His image lively was expressed,
And His own work, as in creation, blessed.
The tempter saw him too, with envious eye,
And, as on Job, demanded leave to try.
He took the time when Richard was depos'd,
And high and low with happy Harry clos'd.
This prince, tho' great in arms, the priest with-
stood:

Near tho' he was, yet not the next of blood.
Had Richard, unconstrained, resigned the throne,
A king can give no more than is his own;
The title stood entailed, had Richard had a son.

Conquest, an odious name, was laid asie;
Where all submitted, none the battle tried..

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