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Artift attend-your brushes and your paint-
Produce them-take a chair-now draw a Saint.
Oh forrowful and fad! the ftreaming tears
Channel her cheeks, a Niobe appears.

Is this a Saint? Throw tints and all away,
True piety is chearful as the day,

Will weep indeed and heave a pitying groan
For others woes, but finiles upon her own.
What purpose has the king of faints in view?
Why falls the gofpel like a gracious dew?
To call up plenty from the teeming earth,
Or curfe the defart with a tenfold dearth?
Is it that Adam's offspring may be fav'd
From fervile fear, or be the more enflav'd?
To loose the links that gall'd mankind before,
Or bind them fafter on, and add ftill more?
The freeborn Chriftian has no chains to prove,
Or if a chain, the golden one of love;
No fear attends to quench his glowing fires,
What fear he feels his gratitude infpires.

Shall

Shall he for fuch deliv'rance freely wrought,
Recompence ill? He trembles at the thought:
His mafter's int'reft and his own combin'd,
Prompt ev'ry movement of his heart and mind;
Thought, word, and deed, his liberty evince,
His freedom is the freedom of a prince.

Man's obligations infinite, of course

His life fhould prove that he perceives their force,
His utmost he can render is but small,

The principle and motive all in all.

You have two fervants-Tom, an arch, fly rogue,

From top to toe the Geta now in

Genteel in figure, eafy in address,

vogue;

Moves without noife, and fwift as an exprefs;

Reports a meffage with a pleafing grace,

Expert in all the duties of his place :
Say, on what hinge does his obedience move?

Has he a world of gratitude and love ?

No, not a spark-'tis all mere fharpers play;

He likes your house, your housemaid and your pay;

G 2

Reduce

Reduce his wages, or get rid of her,

Tom quits you, with, your most obedient Sir

The dinner ferv'd, Charles takes his ufual ftand,

Watches your eye, anticipates command,

Sighs if perhaps your appetite should fail,
And if he but fufpects a frown, turns pale;
Confults all day your int'rest and your ease,
Richly rewarded if he can but please,

And proud to make his firm attachment known,
To fave your life would nobly risque his own.

Now, which stands highest in your ferious

thought?

Charles, without doubt, fay you and fo he ought;
One act that from a thankful heart proceeds,

Excels ten thousand mercenary deeds.

Thus heav'n approves as honeft and fincere,
The work of gen'rous love and filial fear,
But with averted eyes th' omnifcient judge,
Scorns the bafe hireling and the flavish drudge.

Where

Where dwell thefe matchlefs Saints? Old Curio

cries

Ev'n at your fide, Sir, and before your eyes,
The favour'd few, the enthufiafts you despise.
And pleas'd at heart because on holy ground,
Sometimes a canting hypocrite is found,
Reproach a people with his fingle fall,

And caft his filthy raiment at them all.

Attend an apt fimilitude shall show,

Whence springs the conduct that offends you fo.

See where it smokes along the founding plain,
Blown all aslant, a driving, dashing rain,
Peal upon peal redoubling all around,
Shakes it again and fafter to the ground,

Now flashing wide, now glancing as in play,
Swift beyond thought the lightnings dart away;
Ere

yet it came the traveller urg'd his steed,

And hurried, but with unsuccessful speed,

Now drench'd throughout, and hopeless of his cafe,

He drops the rein, and leaves him to his pace;

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Suppofe, unlook'd for in a scene fo rude,
Long hid by interpofing hill or wood,
Some manfion, neat and elegantly drefs'd,
By fome kind hofpitable heart poffefs'd,
Offer him warmth, fecurity, and reft;
Think with what pleasure, fafe and at his ease,
He hears the tempeft howling in the trees,
What glowing thanks his lips and heart employ,
While danger paft is turn'd to prefent joy.
So fares it with the finner when he feels,
A growing dread of vengeance at his heels,
His confcience, like a glaffy lake before,
Lafh'd into foaming waves begins to roar,
The law grown clamorous, though filent long,
Arraigns him, charges him with every wrong,
Afferts the rights of his offended Lord,
And death or reftitution is the word;

The laft impoffible, he fears the first,
And having well deferv'd, expects the worst.
Then welcome refuge, and a peaceful home,
Oh for a fhelter from the wrath to come!

Crush

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