Who in his fovereign wifdom, made them all.
Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your fons
To love it too. The fpring time of our years
Is foon difhonour'd and defil'd in moft,
By budding ills that ask a prudènt hand
To check them. But, alas! none fooner fhoots
If unreftrain'd, into luxuriant growth,
Than cruelty, most dev'lish of them all.
Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule
And righteous limitation of its act,
By which heav'n moves in pard'ning guilty man;
And he that shows none, being ripe in years,
And confcious of the outrage he commits,
Shall feek it, and not find it in his turn.
A Paraphrase on the latter Part of the sixth Chapter of Matthew.
WHEN my breaft labours with oppreffive care,
And o'er my cheek defcends the falling tear;
While all my warring paffions are at ftrife,
Oh let me liften to the words of life!
Raptures deep felt his doctrine did impart,
And thus he rais'd from earth the drooping heart.
"Think not, when all your fcanty ftores afford,
Is spread at once upon the fparing board;
Think not, when worn the homely robe appears,
While on the roof the howling tempeft bears;
What farther fhall this feeble life fuftain,
And what fhall clothe thefe fhiv'ring limbs gaain.
Say does not life its nourishment exceed ?
And the fair body its investing weed?
Behold! and look away your low despair-
See the light tenants of the barren air:
To them, nor ftores, nor granaries, belong;
Nought, but the woodland, and the pleafing fong;
Yet, your kind heavenly Father bends his eye
On the leaft wing that flits along the fky.
To him they fing, when fpring renews the plain;
To him they cry, in winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their mufic, nor their plaint in vain ;
He hears the gay, and the distressful call;
And with unfparing bounty fills them all."
"Obferve the rifing lilly's fnowy grace;
Obferve the various vegetable race;
They neither toil, nor fpin, but carelefs grow;
Yet fee how warm they blush! how bright they glow
What regal vestments can with them compare!
What king fo fhining! or what queen fo fair!"
"If ceafelefs, thus, the fowls of heaven he feeds;
If o'er the field's fuch lucid robes he spreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithless, say?
Is he unwife or are ye lefs than they?"
The Death of a Good Man a strong Incentive to Virtue.
THE chamber where the good man meets his fate,
Is privileged beyond the common walk
Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heav'n.
Fly, ye profane! if not, draw near with awe,.
Receive the bleffing, and adore the chance,
That threw in this Bethefda your disease:
If unreftored by this, defpair your cure.
For, here, refiftlefs demonftration dwells;
A death bed's a detector of the heart.
Here tired diffimulation drops her mask,
Through life's grimace that miftrefs of the fcene !
Here real and apparent, are the fame.
You fee the man; you fee his hold on heav'n,
If found his virtue, as Philander's found.
Heav'n waits not the last moment; owns her friends
On this fide death; and points them out to men ;
A lecture, filent, but of fov'reign pow'r !
To vice, confufion; and to virtue, peace.
Whatever farce the boastful hero plays,
Virtue alone has majefty and death;
And greater ftill, the more the tyrant frowns.
Reflections on a Future State, from a review of Winter.
'Tis done! dread winter spreads his latest glooms,
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year.
How dread the vegetable kingdom lies!
How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
His defolate domain. Behold fond man!
See here thy pictured life: pafs fome few years,
Thy flow'ring fpring, thy fummer's ardent ftrength,
Thy fober autumn fading into age,
And pale concluding winter comes at laft,
And fhuts the fcene. Ah! whither now are fled,
Thofe dreams of greatnefs? thofe unfolid hopes
Of happiness? thofe longings after fame?
Those reftlefs cares? thofe bufy buftling days?
Thofe gay spent, feftive nights? thofe veering thoughts
Loft between good and ill, that shared thy life?
All now are vanifhed! Virtue fole furvives,
Immortal never failing friend of man,
His guide to happinefs on high. And fee!
'Tis come the glorious morn! the second birth
Of heaven and earth! awak'ning nature hears
The new creating word; and starts to life,
In ev'ry heighened form, from pain and death,
For ever free. The great eternal scheme,
Involving all, and in a perfect whole
Uniting as the prospect wider spreads.
To reafon's eye refined clears up apace.
Ye vainly wife! Ye blind prefumptuous! now,
Confounded in the duft, adore that Power,
And Wisdom oft arraigned: fee now the cause
Why unaffuming worth in fecret lived,
And dy'd neglected: why the good man's fhare
In life was gall the bitterness of foul :
Why the lone widow and her orphans pined,
In ftarving folitude; while luxury,
In palaces, lay ftraining her low thought,
To form unreal wants: why heaven born truth,
And moderation fair, wore the red marks
Of fuperftition's fcourge: why licensed pain,
'That cruel fpoiler, that embofomed foe,
Imbittered all our blifs. Ye good diftreffed!
Ye noble few! who here unbending ftand
Beneath life's preffure, yet bear up a while
And what your bounded view, which only faw.
A little part, deemed evil, is no more :
The ftorms of wint'ry time will quickly pafs,
And one unbounded spring encircle all.
Adam's Advice to Eve, to avoid Temptation.
"O WOMAN, best are all things as the will
Of God ordained them; his creating hand
Nothing imperfect or deficient left
Of all that he created, much lefs man,
Or aught that might his happy ftate fecure,
Secure from outward force. Within himself
The danger lies, yet lies within his power;
Against his will he can receive no harm.
But God left free the will; for what obeys
Reafon, is free, and reafon he made right;.
But bid her well beware, and ftill erect,
Left, by fome fair appearing good furprised,
She dictate falfe, and mifinform the will
To do what God exprefsly hath forbid.
Not then miftruft, but tender love enjoins
That I fhould mind thee oft; and mind thou me.
Firm we fubfift, yet poffible to fwerve,
Since reafon not impoffibly may meet.
Some fpecious object by the foe fuborned,
And fall into deception unaware,
Not keeping ftricteft watch, as fhe was warned.
Seek not temptation then, which to avoid
Were better, and most likely if from me
Thou fever not; trial will come unfought.
Wouldst thou approve thy conftancy? approve
First thy obedience; th' other who cañ know,
Not seeking thee attempted, who attest?
But if thou think, trial unfought may find:
Us both fecurer than thus warned thou seem'ft,
Go; for thy ftay, not free, absents thee more;
Go in thy native innocence; rely
On what thou haft of virtue, fummon all;
For God towards thee hath done his
BE wife today; 'tis madnefs to defer;
Next day the fatal precedent will plead;
Thus on, till wifdom is pufh'd out of life.
Procraftination is the thief of time.
Year after year it fteals, till all are fled;
And, to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
• Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears
The palm, "That all men are about to live;"
Forever on the brink of being born.
All pay themselves the compliment to think,
They, one day, fhall not drivel; and their pride
On this reverfion takes up ready praise;
At least, their own; their future felves applauds :
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead !
Time lodged in their own hands is folly's vails;
That lodged in fate's, to wildom they confign;
The thing they can't but purpose, they poftpone..
'Tis not in folly, not to fcorn a fool;
And icarce in human wisdom to do more.
All promife is poor dilatory man ;
And that thro' ev'ry ftage. When young, indeed,
In full content, we fometimes nobly reft,
Unanxious for ourselves; and only wifh,
As duteous fons, our fathers were more wife.
At thirty, man fufpects himfelf a fool:
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty, chides his infamous delay;
Pufhes his prudent purpose to refolve;
In all the magnanimity of thought,
Refolves, and re-refolves, then dies the fame.
• And why? Because he thinks himself immortal.
All men think all men mortal, but themselves;
Themfelves, when fome alarming fhock of fate
Strikes through their wounded hearts the fudden dread:
But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air,
Soon clofe; where, paft the fhaft, no trace is found.
As for the wing no fcar the sky retains;
The parted wave no furrow from the keel;
So dies in human hearts the thought of death.
Ev'n with the tender tear which Nature fheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in their
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