Convicts a man fanatie in extreme,
And wild as maddess in the World's
But that disease, when soberly defi's,
Is the fulse fire of an o'erbrated mind;
It views the truth with a distorted eje,
And either Warps or lays it useless by;
Tis narrow, selfish, arrogant, sed dans
It's sordid nourishment froe mae's spp.ite
And while at heart sin varehoqersho it,
Presumes itself chief far rite of the tits,
'Tis such a light as putrefaction breeds
Io fly-blown flesh, whereon te rugrul bete
Shines in the dark, but, usber'd into daj,
The stench remains, the lustre dies ar

True bliss, if mag may reach it, is compete
Of hearts in union mutually disclos'd;
And, farewell else all hope of pure delight
Those hearts should be reclaim'd, repercut
Bad men, profaning friendship's haller dansk
Form, in its stead, a covenant of shas,
A dará confed'racy against the laws
Of virtue, and religion's glorious cause:
They build each other up with dreadful :

As bastions set point blank against God's From such communion in their pleasant com Feel less the journey's roughness and it's kart

Peruses closely the true Christian's face,

Should flow, like waters after summer show'rs,
Not as if rais'd by mere mechanic pow'rs.
The Christian, in whose soul, though now distress'd,
Lires the dear thought of joys he once possessid,
When all his glowing language issu'd forth
With God's deep stamp upon it's current worth,
will speak without disguise, and must impart,
Sad as it is, his undissein bling heart,
Abhors constraint, and dares not feiga a zeal,
Or seem to boast a fire he does not feel.
The

song of Zion is a tasteless thing,
Caless, wilen rising on a joyful wing,
The soul can mix with the celestial bands,
And give the strain the compass it demands.
Strange tidings these to tell a World, who treat
All but their own experience as deceit!
Will they believe, though credulous enough,
To swallow much upon much weaker prool,
That there are blest inhabitants of Earthi,
Partakers of a new ethereal birth,
Their hopes, desires, and purposes estrang'd.
From things terrestrial, and divinely chang’d,

very language, of a kind, that speaks
The soul's sure int'rest in the good she seeks,
Who deal with Scripture, it's importance felt,
As Tully with philosophy once dealt,
And in the silent watches of the night,
And through the scenes of toil-renewing light,
The social walk, or solitary ride,
Keep still the dear companion at their side ?
$o-shame upon a self-disgracivg age,
God's work may serve an ape upon a stage
With such a jest, as fill'd with hellish glee
Certain invisibles as shrewd as he ;
Bat veneration or respect finds none,
Save from the subjects of that work alone.
The World grown old her deep discernment shows,
Claps spectacles on her sagacious nose,
And finds it a mere mask of sly grimace

Their

Enlarge and fortify the dread redoubt,
Deeply resolv'd to shut a Saviour out;
Call legions up from Hell to back the died;
And curs'd with conquest, finally succeed.
But souls, that carry on a blest exchange
Of joys, they meet with in their hear'aly rok
And with a fearless confidence małe kode]
The sorrows, sympathy esteems it's owa,
Daily derive increasing light and force

Meet their opposers with united strength, Jod, one in heart, in intrest, and design, Gird up each other to the race divine.

But Conversation, choose what theme re saf, And chiefly when religion leads the fas,

And yet, God knows, look human nature throughi, le mal by paure or line,
130

CONVERSATION.
Usurps God's office, lays his bosom bare,
And finds hypocrisy close lurking there;
And, serving God herself through mere constraint,
Concludes his unfeign'd love of him a feint.
(And in due time the World shall know it too)
That since the flow'rs of Eden felt the blast,
That after man's defection laid all waste,
Sincerity tow'rds the heart-searching God
Has made the new-born creature her abode,
Nor shall be found in unregen’rate souls,
Till the last fire burn all between the poles.
Sincerity! why 'tis his only pride,
Weak and imperfect in all grace beside,
He knows that God demands his heart entire,
And gives him all his just demands require.
Without it his pretensions were as vain,
As having it he deems the World's disdain;
That great defect would cost him not alone
Man's favourable judgment, but his own;
His birthright shaken, and no longer clear,
Than while his conduct proves his heart sincerc.
Retort the charge, and let the World be told
She boasts a confidence she does not hold;
That, conscious of her crimes, she feels instead
A cold misgiving, and a killing dread:
That while in health the ground of her support
Is madly to forget that life is short;
That sick she trembles, knowing she must die,
Her hope presumption, and her faith a lie;
That while she dotes, and dreams that she believes,
She mocks her Maker, and herself deceives,
Her utmost reach, historical assent,
The doctrines warp'd to what they never meant;
That truth itself is in her head as dull
And useless as a candle in a skull,

And all her love of God a groundless claim, censures tan A trick upon the canvas, painted flame.

Tell her again, the sheer upon her face,

And all her censures of the work of grace,
CGLG2 Samstag 061
ID pe em aut fara

130

CONVERSATION,
Usurps God's office, larg bis beter tere
And finds hypocrisy close lurtingtea,
And, serving God berself through pertene
Concludes bis anteiga'd love of

the
And yet, God knows, ices hadsan
(And in due time the World shall loro
That siace the fow'rs of Eden felt that
That after man's defection land all the
Sincerity tow'rds the heari-sarching list
Has made the new-born creatore ber share
Nor shall be found in upregeo'nato
Till the last fire buro all betrees the pats
Sincerity! why 'tis his oaly pride,
Weak and imperfect in all grace beiden
He knows that God demands hus beurt este
And gires him all his just den adds tapas
Without it his pretensions were as ral
As having it he deems the World's dicat,
That great defect would cost him ect alone
Man's farourable judgment, but has ova;
His birthright shaken, and no longer daar.
Than while his conduct prores bis heart sant?
Retort the charge, and let the World be take
She boasts a confidence she dors pot bold,
That, cooscious of her crimes, she feels mes
A cold misgiving, and a killing dread:
That while in health the ground of her sorpus
Is madly to forget that life is short;
That sick she trembles, knowing she waste
Her hope presumption, and ber faith a lie
That while she dotes, and drearns that she bedrer
She mocks her Maker, and terseli deures
Ter utmost reach, historical assent,
he doctrines warp'd to what they deser pe
at truth itself is in her head us dud
d useless as a candle in a skull,
y all her love of God a groundless class
Eck upon the canvas, painted disme.
ver again, the speer upon her face,
Il ber ceasure of the work of goat

Are iasiacere, meant only to conceal
A dread she would not, yet is forc'd to feel;
That in her heart the Christian she reveres,
And while she seems to score him, only fears.

A poet does not work by square or line,
As smiths and joiners perfect a design;
At least we moderns, our attention less,
Beyond th' example of our sires digress,
And claim a right to scamper and run wide,
Wherever chance, caprice, or fancy guide.
The World and I fortuitously met;
low'd a trifle, and have paid the debt;
She did me wrong, I recompens'd the deed,
And, having struck the balance, now proceed.
Perhaps however as some years have pass'd,
Since she and I convers'd together last,
And I have liv'd recluse in rural shades,
Which seldom a distinct report pervades,
Great changes and new manners have occurr'd,
And blest reforms, that I have never heard,
And she may now be as discreet and wise,
As once absurd in all discerning eyes.
Sobriety perhaps may now be found,
Where once Intoxication press'd the ground;
The subtle and injurious may be just,
And he grown chaste, that was the slave of lust;
Arts once esteem'd may be with shame dismiss'd;
Charity may relax the miser's fist;
The gamester may have cast his cards away,
Forgot to curse, and only kneel to pray.
It has indeed been told me (with what weight,
How credibly, 'tis hard for me to state)
That fables old, that seem'd for ever mute,
Reviv'd are hast’ning into fresh repute,
And gods and goddesses discarded long
Like useless lumber, or a stroller's song,
Are bringing into vogue their heathen train,
And Jupiter bids fair to rule again ;
That certain feasts are instituted now,
Where Venus bears the love's tender vow;