My father then thine only teacher!—Now
On ev'ry side the rival temples grow,
As though upspringing from prolific sod,
With tow'r, or spire high-tap'ring to a rod;
And num'rous teachers now heav'n's pathway show:
But Truth is one, unchang'd, always the same,—
Its sempiternal source with God on high,
Whence God's own Son in wondrous mercy came,
Pure light to pour on man's dark, wild'ring eye.
May all thy pastors guide their flocks aright,