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And though my tale be somewhat longer,
I trust you'll find it vastly stronger.
I'll tell you, Daniel, of a man,
The holiest since the world began,
Who now God's favor is receiving,
For prompt obeying, not believing.
One only son this man possessed,
In whom his righteous age was blessed;
And more to mark the grace of Heaven,
This son by miracle was given.
And from this child the Word divine
Had promised an illustrious line.
When, lo! at once a voice he hears,
Which sounds like thunder in his ears.
God says—' Go sacrifice thy son!'
—' This moment, Lord, it shall be done.'
He goes, and instantly prepares
To slay this child of many prayers.
Now, here you see the grand expedience
Of works, of actual sound obedience.
This was not faith, but act and deed:
The Lord commands—the child shall bleed.
Thus Abraham acted," Jenny cried; 'Thus Abraham trusted," Dan replied. 'Abraham!" quoth Jane, "why, that's my man;" 'No, Abraham's him I mean," says Dan. 'He stands a monument of faith;" 'No, 'tis for works, the Scripture saith." ''Tis for his faith that I defend him;" ''Tis for obedience I commend him." Thus he—thus she—both warmly feel,
And lose their temper in their zeal;
Too quick each other's choice to blame,
They did not see each meant the same.
At length, "Good wife," said honest Dan,
"We're talking of the self-same man.
The works you praise, I own, indeed,
Grow from that faith for which I plead;
And Abraham, whom for faith I quote.
For works deserves especial note:
'Tis not enough of faith to talk;
A man of God with God must walk:
Our doctrines are, at last, the same;
They only differ in the name.
The faith I fight for, is the root;
THE TWO GARDENERS.
Two gardeners once beneath an oak Lay down to rest, when Jack thus spoke— "You must confess, dear Will, that Nature Is but a blundering kind of creature; And I—nay, why that look of terror 1 Could teach her how to mend her error." "Your talk," quoth Will, " is bold and odd; What you call Nature, I call God." "Well, call him by what name you will," Quoth Jack, " he manages but ill; Nay, from the very tree we're under, I'll prove that Providence can blunder." Quoth Will, "Through thick and thin you dash; I shudder, Jack, at words so rash; I trust to what the Scriptures tell— He hath done always all things well." Quoth Jack, " I'm lately grown a wit, And think all good a lucky hit. To prove that Providence can err, Not words, but facts, the truth aver.
To this vast oak lift up thine eyes,
"O! O!" quoth Jack, "I'm wrong, 1 see
LADY AND THE PIE;
A Worthy squire, of sober life,
I ne'er had ruined all mankind;
The squire replied, " I fear 'tis true
The squire, some future day at dinner.
Of all the dainties I've prepared,
I beg not any may be spared;
Indulge in every costly dish;
Enjoy, 'tis what I really wish;
Only observe one prohibition,
Nor think it a severe condition;
On one small dish, which covered stands,
You must not dare to lay your hands;
Go—disobey not, on your life,
Or henceforth you're no more my wife."
The treat was served, the squire was gone,
Now left alone, she waits no longer;