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But though we praise th' exact defigner's skill,
Account them implements of mischief still.

No works fhall find acceptance in that day
When all disguises shall be rent away,
That square not truly with the Scripture plan,
Nor fpring from love to God, or love to man.
As he ordains things fordid in their birth
To be refolv'd into their parent earth,

And though the foul shall seek superior orbs,
Whate'er this world produces, it absorbs;
So felf starts nothing but what tends ȧpace
Home to the goal where it began the race.
Such as our motive is, our aim must be,
If this be fervile, that can ne'er be free;
If felf employ us, whatfoe'er is wrought,
We glorify that self, not him we ought:
Such virtues had need prove their own reward,
The judge of all men owes them no regard.
True Charity a plant divinely nurs'd,

Fed by the love from which it rofe at first,
Thrives against hope and in the rudest scene,
Storms but enliven its unfading green;
Exub'rant is the fhadow it fupplies,

Its fruit on earth, its growth above the skies.
To look at him who form'd us and redeem'd,
So glorious now, though once so disesteem'd,

Το

To fee a God ftretch forth his human hand,

T' uphold the boundless scenes of his command,
To recollect that in a form like ours,

He bruis'd beneath his feet th' infernal pow'rs,
Captivity led captive, rose to claim

The wreath he won fo dearly, in our name;
That thron'd above all height, he condescends
To call the few that truft in him his friends;
That in the heav'n of heav'ns, that space he deems
Too fcanty for th' exertion of his beams,
And shines as if impatient to bestow
Life and a kingdom upon worms below;
That fight imparts a never-dying flame,
Though feeble in degree, in kind the same;
Like him, the foul thus kindled from above,
Spreads wide her arms of univerfal love,
And still enlarg'd as she receives the grace,
Includes creation in her clofe embrace.
Behold a Chriftian-and without the fires
The founder of that name alone inspires,
Though all accomplishment, all knowledge

meet,

To make the shining prodigy compleat,

Whoever boafts that name-behold a cheat.

Were love, in thefe the world's laft doting years,

As frequent as the want of it appears,

}

The

The churches warm'd, they would no longer hold
Such frozen figures, stiff as they are cold;
Relenting forms would lose their pow'r or cease,
And ev❜n the dipt and sprinkled, live in peace;
Each heart would quit its prifon in the breast,
And flow in free communion with the rest.
The statesman, skill'd in projects dark and deep,
Might burn his useless Machiavel, and sleep;
His budget often fill'd, yet always poor,
Might swing at ease behind his study door,
No longer prey upon our annual rents,
Nor fcare the nation with its big contents:
Disbanded legions freely might depart,

And laying man would cease to be an art.
No learned difputants would take the field,
Sure not to conquer, and fure not to yield,
Both fides deceiv'd, if rightly understood,
Pelting each other for the public good.
Did Charity prevail, the prefs would prove
A vehicle of virtue, truth and love,

And I might fpare myself the pains to show
What few can learn, and all suppose they know.
Thus have I fought to grace a serious lay
With many a wild indeed, but flow'ry spray,
In hopes to gain what else I must have loft,
Th' attention pleasure has fo much engrofs'd.

VOL. I.

I

But

But if unhappily deceiv'd I dream,
And prove too weak for fo divine a theme,
Let Charity forgive me a mistake

That zeal, not vanity, has chanc'd to make,
And spare the poet for his subject sake.

}

CON

CONVERSATION.

Nam neq; me tantum venientis fibilus auftri,
Nec percufla juvant fluctu tam litora, nec que
Saxofas inter decurrunt flumina valles.

THOUG

VIRG. ECL. 5.

HOUGH nature weigh our talents, and dif-
pense

To ev'ry man his modicum of sense,
And Converfation in its better part,
May be esteem'd a gift and not an art,
Yet much depends, as in the tiller's toil,
On culture, and the fowing of the foil.
Words learn'd by rote, a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converfe,
Not more diftinct from harmony divine,
The constant creaking of a country fign.

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