They knew not, what some bishops may not know,
That Scripture is the only cure of woe:

That field of promife, how it flings abroad
Its odour o'er the Chriftian's thorny road;
The foul, repofing on affur'd relief,
Feels herself happy amidst all her grief,
Forgets her labour as fhe toils along,

Weeps tears of joy, and bursts into a song.

But the fame word that like the polish'd share
Ploughs up the roots of a believer's care,
Kills too the flow'ry weeds where'er they grow,
That bind the finner's Bacchanalian brow.
Oh that unwelcome voice of heav'nly love,
Sad meffenger of mercy from above,

How does it grate upon his thankless ear,
Crippling his pleasures with the cramp of fear!
His will and judgment at continual ftrife,
That civil war imbitters all his life;

In vain he points his pow'rs against the skies,
In vain he closes or averts his eyes,
Truth will intrude-fhe bids him yet beware-
And shakes the sceptic in the fcorner's chair.

Though various foes against the truth combine,
Pride above all opposes her defign;

Pride, of a growth fuperior to the rest,

The subtleft ferpent with the lofticft creft,

Swells at the thought, and kindling into rage,
Would hifs the cherub mercy from the stage.

And is the foul indeed fo loft, fhe cries,
Fall'n from her glory and too weak to rise,
Torpid and dull beneath a frozen zone,
Has fhe no spark that may be deem'd her own?
Grant her indebted to what zealots call
Grace undeserv'd, yet furely not for all-
Some beams of rectitude fhe yet difplays,
Some love of virtue and fome pow'r to praise;
Can lift herself above corporeal things,
And foaring on her own unborrow'd wings,
Poffefs herself of all that's good or true,
Affert the fkies, and vindicate her due.
Paft indifcretion is a venial crime,

And if the youth unmellow'd yet by time,
Bore on his branch luxuriant then, and rude,
Fruits of a blighted fize, auftere and crude,
Maturer years shall happier ftores produce,
And meliorate the well concocted juice.
Then, confcious of her meritorious zeal,
To juftice he may make her bold appeal,
And leave to mercy with a tranquil mind,
The worthlefs and unfruitful of mankind.
Hear then how mercy, flighted and defied,
Retorts th' affront against the crown of pride.

Perish the virtue, as it ought, abhorr'd,
And the fool with it who infults his Lord.
Th' atonement a Redeemer's love has wrought
Is not for you the righteous need it not.
Seeft thou yon harlot wooing all the meets,
The worn out nuifance of the public streets,
Herself from morn to night, from night to morn,
Her own abhorrence, and as much your fcorn;
The gracious fhow'r, unlimited and free,
Shall fall on her, when heav'n denies it thee.
Of all that wisdom dictates, this the drift,
That man is dead in fin, and life a gift.

Is virtue then, unless of chriftian growth,
Mere fallacy, or foolishness, or both,
Ten thoufand fages loft in endless woe,
For ignorance of what they could not know?
That speech betrays at once a bigot's tongue,
Charge not a God with fuch outrageous wrong.
Truly not I--the partial light men have,

My creed perfuades me, well employed, may save,
While he that fcorns the noon-day beam, perverse
Shall find the bleffing, unimprov'd, a curse.
Let heathen worthies, whofe exalted mind
Left fenfuality and drofs behind,

Poffefs for me their undifputed lot,

And take unenvied the reward they fought.

But ftill in virtue of a Saviour's plea,

Not blind by choice, but deftin'd not to fee.
Their fortitude and wifdom were a flame
Celeftial, though they knew not whence it came,
Deriv'd from the fame fource of light and grace
That guides the chriftian in his fwifter race;
Their judge was confcience, and her rule their law,
That rule pursued with rev'rence and with awe,
Led them, however fault'ring, faint and flow,
From what they knew, to what they wish'd to know;
But let not him that fhares a brighter day,
Traduce the fplendor of a noon-tide ray,
Prefer the twilight of a darker time,
And deem his bafe ftupidity no crime;
The wretch who flights the bounty of the fkies,
And finks, while favour'd with the means to rife,
Shall find them rated at their full amount,

The good he fcorn'd all carried to account.
Marshalling all his terrors as he came,
Thunder and earthquake and devouring flame,
From Sinai's top Jehovah gave the law,

Life for obedience, death for ev'ry flaw.

When the great fov'reign would his will express,
He gives a perfect rule; what can he lefs?
And guards it with a fanction as fevere
As vengeance can inflict, or finners fear:

Elfe

Elfe his own glorious rights he would disclaim,
And man might fafely trifle with his name:
He bids him glow with unremitting: love
To all on earth, and to himself above;
Condemns th' injurious deed, the fland'rous tongue,
The thought that meditates a brother's wrong;
Brings not alone, the more confpicuous part,
His conduct to the test, but tries his heart.

Hark! univerfal nature fhook and groan'd,
'Twas the last trumpet-fee the judge enthron'd:
Rouse all your courage at your utmost need,.
Now fummon ev'ry virtue, ftand and plead..
What, filent? Is your boasting heard no more?
That felf-renouncing wifdom, learn'd before,,
Had shed immortal glories on your brow,
That all your virtues cannot purchase now.
All joy to the believer! He can fpeak-
Trembling yet happy, confident yet meek.

Since the dear hour that brought me to thy foot, And cut up all my follies by the root,

I never trusted in an arm but thine,
Nor hop'd, but in thy righteousness divine:
My pray'rs and alms, imperfect and defil'd,
Were but the feeble efforts of a child,
Howe'er perform'd, it was their brightest part,
That they proceeded from a grateful heart: