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Our Saviour's Humanity nect considered, as this virtue must naturally spring from true piety. Without it piety is rain, or an insult to God. Our Satis our's curing the dumb, lame, maniac, leper, lunatic, paralytic, and the blind-Reflections upon the various miseries of blindnessIt is the duty of Christians to relieve, wherever they can, the necessities of the blind-Our Saviour cures the man who is deaf and dumbThe unhappiness of such a conditionHe feeds thousands with a few fishes and a little bread --He weeps from sympathy when he hears of the death of Lazarus from his friends-Great souls are liable to be melted-Little and contracted minds are obdurute-Praise of a feeling mindIt is a moral security of Innocence-When however compassion is swayed by reason, and exerted from approbation and from choice, as it was by our Saviour, it is a virtue of the highest nature-Compassion was implanted into the breast of man, that he might become by its display the proxy of Heaven.





FROM reas'ning of our Saviour's piety,
We will descant on his humanity;
Cf God, as true and well directed love,
To love of man will naturally move:
To all his creatures kindness it inspires,
Whose happiness he zealously desires,
And these two virtues must together reign,
At least, the first without the latter's vain;
For he who malice in his bosem bears,
Insults the God of mercy by his pray’rs.


IO 20

His life's employ, the labour of his mind,
Was to relieve and benefit mankind.
Where'er he went, affiction and disease
Fled, and to them succeeded joy and ease.
The blind, dumb, lame, and each imperfect man, 15
Felt second life, and saw, speak, leapt, or ran.
And through his unconfined beneficence,
The furious maniac soften'd into sense.
Th' unhappy leper, that was whiten'd d'er,
With an afflictive and a noisome sore,
Loath'd by himself, and by his neighbour left,
He cleans'd, and of his foul disease bereft.
The lunatic, poor wretch was in the way,
The jest of brutal fools, the villain's prey;
The restless heavings of whose tortur'd heart25
Would make him oft to a wild horror start,
But at his touch the phirenzy disappear’d,
The spirit fled him, and his senses clear'd.
Thus (if tis right to liken and set forth
The greatest things by those of trivial worth) 30
When an excelling artist's cunning hand,
A harp, egregious source of joy, has scann'd;

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