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To make God's work a finecure; a slave
To his own pleasures and his patron's pride.-
From fuch apoftles, Oh ye mitred heads
Preferve the church! and lay not careless hands
On fculls that cannot teach, and will not learn.

approve, and own, I would trace

Would I defcribe a preacher, fuch as Paul, Were he on earth, would hear, Paul fhould himself direct me. His mafter-ftrokes, and draw from his defign. I would exprefs him fimple, grave, fincere ; In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain; And plain in manner. Decent, folemn, chaste, And natural in gefture. Much imprefs'd Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too. Affectionate in look,. And tender in addrefs, as well becomes.. A meffenger of grace to guilty men.. Behold the picture!-Is it like ?-Like whom? The things that mount the roftrum with a skip And then skip down again. Pronounce a text, Cry, hem; and reading what they never wrote Jutt fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, And with a well-bred whifper close the scene.

In man or woman, but far most in man,. And most of all in man that minifters And ferves the altar, in my foul I loath All affectation. 'Tis my perfect fcorn;

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And understood too well the weighty terms

That he had ta'en in charge. He would not stoop To conquer thofe by jocular exploits,

Whom truth and foberness affail'd in vain.

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Oh, popular applaufe! what heart of man
Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms?
The wifeft and the best feel urgent need
Of all their caution in thy gentleft gales;
But fwell'd into a gust-who then, alas!
With all his canvafs fet, and inexpert,
And therefore heedlefs, can withstand thy power
Praise from the rivel'd lips of toothless, bald
Decrepitude; and in the looks of lean
And craving poverty; and in the bow
Refpectful of the fmutch'd artificer,
Is oft too welcome, and may much difturb
The bias of the purpose. How much more
Pour'd forth by beauty fplendid and polite,
In language foft as adoration breathes?
Ah fpare your idol! think him human ftill,
Charms he may have, but he has frailties too,
Doat not too much, nor fpoil what ye admire.

All truth is from the fempiternal fource

Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome : Drew from the ftream below.

More favor'd we

Drink, when we chufe it, at the fountain head.
To them it flow'd much mingl'd and defil'd
With hurtful error, prejudice, and dreams

Illufive

Illufive, of philofophy, fo call'd,

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But falfely. Sages after fages ftrove
In vain, to filter off a chryftal draught

Pure from the lees, which often more enhanc'd
The thirst than flak'd it, and not feldom bred
Intoxication and delirium wild.

In vain they push'd enquiry to the birth

And spring-time of the world, afk'd, whence is man?
Why form'd at all? And wherefore as he is?
Where muft he find his Maker? With what rites
Adore him? Will he hear, accept, and blefs?

Or does he fit regardless of his works?

Has man within him an immortal feed?

Or does the tomb take all? If he furvive

His afhes, where? and in what weal or woe?
Knots worthy of folution, which alone
A Deity could folve. Their anfwers vague,
And all at random, fabulous and dark,
Left them as dark themfelves. Their rules of life,
Defective and unfanction'd, prov'd too weak

To bind the roving appetite, and lead
Blind nature to a God not yet reveal'd.
'Tis Revelation fatisfies all doubts,
Explains all myfteries, except her own,
And fo illuminates the path of life,
That fools difcover it, and ftray no more.
Now tell me, dignifi'd and fapient fir,
My man of morals, nurtur'd in the fhades
Of Academus, is this falfe or true?

Is Chrifl the abler teacher, or the schools?

If

If Chrift, then why refort at ev'ry turn
To Athens or to Rome, for wifdom short
Of man's occafions, when in him refide

Grace, knowledge, comfort, an unfathom'd ftore?
How oft when Paul has ferv'd us with a text,

Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully preach'd !
Men that, if now alive, would fit content
And humble learners of a Saviour's worth,

Preach it who might. Such was their love of truth,
Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too.

And thus it is. The paftor, either vain
By nature, or by flatt'ry made fo, taught
To gaze at his own fplendor, and t'exalt
Abfurdly, not his office, but himself;
Or unenlighten'd, and too proud to learn,
Or vicious, and not therefore apt to teach,
Perverting often by the ftrefs of lewd
And loofe example, whom he should instruct,
Exposes and holds up to broad disgrace
The nobleft function, and difcredits much
The brightest truths that man has ever seen.
For ghoftly counfel, if it either fall
Below the exigence, or be not back'd
With fhow of love, at least with hopeful proof
Of fome fincerity on the giver's part;
Or be difhonor'd in th' exterior form
And mode of its conveyance, by fuch tricks
As move derifion, or by foppish airs
And hiftrionic mumm'ry, that let down

The

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The pulpit to the level of the stage,
Drops from the lips a difregarded thing.
The weak perhaps are mov'd, but are not taught,
While prejudice in men of ftronger minds
Takes deeper root, confirm'd by what they fee.
A relaxation of religion's hold

Upon the roving and untutor'd heart

Soon follows, and the curb of conscience fnapt,
The laity run wild.-But do they now?
Note their extravagance, and be convine'd.

As nations ignorant of God, contrive
A wooden one, fo we, no longer taught
By monitors that mother church supplies,
Now make our own. Pofterity will ask
* (If e'er posterity fee verse of mine)
Some fifty or an hundred luftrums hence,
What was a monitor in George's days?
My very gentle reader, yet unborn,
Of whom I needs muft augur better things,
Since heav'n would fure grow weary of a world
Productive only of a race like us,

A monitor is wood. Plank fhaven thin.

its ufe

We wear it at our backs. There closely brac'd
And neatly fitted, it compreffes hard
The prominent and most unfightly bones,
And binds the fhoulders flat. We prove
Sov'reign and moft effectual to fecure
A form, not now gymnastic as of yore,
From rickets and distortion, else, our lot.
H

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