LXVI. The barren Fig-tree cursed. Long abftinent, our Lord to faint began For fuch his Frame, in all but Sin, like Man: As chanc'd a Fig-tree near the Road he spy'd, Whose verdant Leaves, and Boughs extended wide, Oft call'd the weary Trav'ler fro his Way, And promis'd Fruit they never meant to pay. Thither he goes, the Tree his Hopes deceives, And nothing found he there but taftlefs Leaves: No Fruit, he faid, hereafter on thee grow, Nor fhalt thou more deceive with empty show: When from the Town ith' morning they return'd, Th' Apoftles faw it wither'd, fear'd, and burn'd, As blafted with the Lightnings piercing Flame, Or Winds that from the fultry Defart came. With Wonder ftruck- How foon 'tis gone they cry'd! Is this so strange, our Lord again reply'd? Have but firm Faith in Ged, you All things may, This Mountain bid remove, this Mountain shall obey. LXVI. St. MARK Chap. XI. Ver. 12, 13, 14. 12. When they were come from Bethany, he was hungry. 13. And feeing a fig-tree afar off, having leaves, he came, if haply he might find any thing thereon: and when he came to it, he found nothing but leaves; for the time of figs was not yet. 14. And Fefus answered and said unto it, No man cat fruit of thee hereafter for ever. LXVII. The Widow and her two Mites." AS in the Womens Court our Lord was plac'd, And faw the Gifts were into Corban caft; Handfuls of Gold, which they take care to show To all around, the Rich profufely throw; So large, as tho' they thought just Heav'n to move, Offer'd her two poor Mites, 'twas all her store, LXVII St. MARK Chap. XII. Ver. 42, 43, 44. 42. There came a certain poor widow, and fhe threw in two mites, which make a farthing. 43. And he called unto him his difciples, and faith unto them, Verily I Say unto you, that this poor widow hath caft more in, than all they which have caft into the treasury. 44. For all they did caft in of their abundance: but he of her want did caft in all that she had, even all her living. К4 LXVIIL LXVIII The Deftruction of the Temple foretold. S thro' the lofty Eaftern Gate they go, AS Our Lord the Temple his Disciples show; What Stones, what Building's here, how Firm, how Vaft! Sure these as long as Time itself muft laft. way The Day approaches faft, the dreadful Day meet, The hollow Ground shake underneath your Feet. |