Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r,
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
Beside the bed, where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd,
The rev'rend champion stood. At his controul
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise.