Drink deep; the deeper, then, the more divine; 675 Angels are angels from indulgence there; 'Tis unrepenting pleasure makes a god.

Dost think thyself a god from other joys?

A victim rather! shortly sure to bleed.

The wrong must mourn: Can Heav'n's appointments fail?

Can Man outwit Omnipotence? Strike out

A self-wrought happiness unmeant by HIM
Who made us, and the world we should enjoy?
Who forms an instrument, ordains from whence
Its dissonance, or harmony, shall rise.
Heav'n bid the soul this mortal frame inspire;
Bid Virtue's ray divine inspire the soul

With unprecarious flows of vital joy;

And, without breathing, Man as well might hope
For life, as, without piety, for peace.

"Is Virtue, then, and Piety the same?".
No: Piety is more; 'tis Virtue's source;
Mother of ev'ry worth, as that, of joy.
Men of the world this doctrine ill digest;

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They smile at Piety; yet boast aloud

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Good-will to men; nor know they strive to part

What Nature joins; and thus confute themselves.
With Piety begins all good on earth;

'Tis the first born of Rationality.

Conscience, her first law broken, wounded lies; 700
Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good;

A feign'd affection bounds her utmost pow'r.
Some we can't love, but for th' ALMIGHTY's sake;
A foe to GOD was ne'er true friend to Man:

Some sinister intent taints all he does;

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And, in his kindest actions, he's unkind.

On Piety, humanity is built;

And, on humanity, much happiness;

And yet still more on Piety itself.

A soul in commerce with her GOD, is heav'n;
Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life;

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The whirls of passions, and the strokes of heart.
A Deity believ'd, is joy begun;

A Deity ador'd, is joy advanc'd;

A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd.

Each branch of Piety delight inspires;

Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,
O'er Death's dark gulph, and all its horror hides;
Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,

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That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still;

Pray'r ardent opens heav'n, lets down a stream
Of glory on the consecrated hour

Of Man, in audience with the Deity.
Who worships the great GOD, that instant joins
The first in heav'n, and sets his foot on hell.

LORENZO! When wast thou at church before?
Thou think'st the service long: But is it just?
Though just, unwelcome: Thou hadst rather tread
Unhallow'd ground; the muse, to win thine ear,
Must take an air less solemn. She complies.
Good conscience! at the sound the world retires;
Verse disaffects it, and LORENZO smiles;
Yet has she her seraglio full of charms;
And such as age shall heighten, not impair.
Art thou dejected? Is thy mind o'ercast?

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735

LStothard Erg RA delin

Rayr ardent

Engravel by J. Saunders

opens heaven, lets down a stream.
Of Glory on the consecrated hour
Of Man, in audience with the Deity

London:Published Nov 11797 by T.Heptinstall 304 Helborn.

Page 230

Amid her fair ones, thou the fairest chuse,

To chase thy gloom.-" Go, fix some weighty truth; "Chain down some passion; do some gen'rous good; "Teach Ignorance to see, or Grief to smile; "Correct thy friend; befriend thy greatest foe; 740 "Or with warm heart, and confidence divine,

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Spring up, and lay strong hold on HIM who made "thee."

-Thy gloom is scatter'd, sprightly spirits flow:
Though wither'd is thy vine, and harp unstrung.

Dost call the bowl, the viol, and the dance, Loud mirth, mad laughter? Wretched comforters! Physicians! more than half of thy disease.

745

Laughter, though never censur'd yet as sin
(Pardon a thought that only seems severe,)
Is half-immoral: Is it much indulg'd?
By venting spleen, or dissipating thought,
It shews a scorner, or it makes a fool;
And sins, as hurting others, or ourselves.
'Tis pride, or emptiness, applies the straw,
That tickles little minds to mirth effuse;

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Of grief approaching, the portentous sign!

The house of laughter makes a house of woe,

A Man triumphant is a monstrous sight;

A Man dejected is a sight as mean.

What cause for triumph, where such ills abound? 760
What for dejection, where presides a Pow'r,
Who call'd us into being to be blest?

So grieve, as conscious grief may rise to joy;
So joy, as conscious joy to grief may fall.
Most true, a wise man never will be sad;
But neither will sonorous, bubbling mirth,

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