My heart with sin as crimson dyed,
Would ever so remain;
But if that blood by faith’s applied,
’Twill cleanse from every stain!
With some their fill of pleasure here,
Is all the good they crave:—
Give me a humble, holy fear,
A hope beyond the grave!
At wisdom’s shrine I’ll light my torch,
And in her pleasant ways,
Under the Nazarene’s reproach,
I’ll live out all my days!
Thus whether sanction’d or despis’d,
Such is my fancy’s Rule;
In keeping which I shall be wise,
Although accounted fool!
Let the free thinker take the hint,
And with my creed agree;
That all are not compell’d to think,
Nor speak the same as he!
ON FINDING SOME DEISTICAL BOOKS IN THE HOUSE OF ONE WHO ONCE FEARED GOD!
“How is the gold become dim!” (Lamen. iv. 1.)
False publications throw their gloomy rays,
Where once the Sun of Righteousness did shine;
With pain we recollect the former days,
While scoffing infidels their voices join!
Insulting Heav’n, they oft with brazen brow,
Deny our Saviour is the Son of God!
But soon to Him their every knee shall bow,
And they shall groan beneath His iron rod!