Bewilder'd once, must he bewail his lofs
For ever and for ever? No-the cross.
There and there only (though the deift rave,
And atheist, if earth bear so base a slave)
There and there only, is the pow'r to save.
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,
Bléd, groan'd and agoniz'd, and died in vain.
AN on the dubious waves of error tofs'd,
His ship 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 canvass, ev'ry finew plies,
Pants for it, aims at it, enters it, and dies.
Then farewell all felf-fatisfying schemes,
His well-built fyftems, 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, muft guide his horse
Obedient to the customs of the courfe,
Elfe, though unequall'd to the goal he flies,
A meaner than himself shall gain the prize.
Grace leads the right way, if you chufe the wrong,
Take it and perifh, but reftrain your tongue;
Charge not, with light fufficient and left free,
Your willful fuicide on God's decree.
Oh how unlike the complex works of man,
Heav'ns eafy, 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 cærulean arch we fee,
Majestic in its own fimplicity.
Infcrib'd above the portal, from afar
Confpicuous as the brightness of a ftar,
Legible only by the light they give,
Stand the foul-quick'ning words-BELIEVE AND
Too many fhock'd at what should charm them most, Defpife the plain direction and are loft.
Heav'n on fuch terms ! they cry with proud difdain, Incredible, impoffible, and vain
Rebel because 'tis eafy to obey,
And fcorn 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 everlafting flate,
Sport for a day and perish in a night,
The foam upon the waters not fo light.
Who judg'd the Pharifee? What odious caufe
Expos'd him to the vengeance of the laws?
Had he feduc'd a virgin, wrong'd a friend,
Or stabb'd a man to serve some private end?
Was blafphemy his fin? Or did he stray
From the strict duties of the facred day?
Sit long and late at the carousing board?
(Such were the fins with which he charg'd his Lord)
No-the man's morals were exact, what then?
'Twas his ambition to be feen 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 fhow,
A praying, fynagogue frequenting beau.
The felf-applauding bird, the peacock fee-
Mark what a fumptuous Pharifee is he!
Meridian fun-beams tempt him to unfold
His radiant glories, azure, green, and gold;
He treads as if fome folemn music near,
His meafur'd ftep were govern'd by his ear,
And feems to fay, ye meaner fowl, give place,
I am all fplendor, dignity and grace.
Not fo the pheasant on his charms prefumes,
Though he too has a glory in his plumes.
He, chriftian like, retreats with modest mien,
To the close copfe or far fequefter'd green,
And shines without defiring to be feen.
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