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;
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.
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.
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, of philofophy, fo call'd,
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 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 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.
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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