As hist'ry of the world doth fully show,—
His reason shrouded in the thickest night.
But when the Truth beams on his purged sight,
Instant are fled all wild'ring shapes below,
Whose terrors waken'd all his spirit's throe:
Thus chang'd the scene where shines the Gospel bright.
Alas, my brother, art thou then so wise,
Thou know'st the Gospel false? And dost thou choose
To put to hazard yon, blue, blessed skies,
And all, that God can give, wilt madly lose?