Be loudest in their praise, who do no more.
Yet what can satire, whether grave or gay?
It may correct a foible, may chastise
The freaks of fashion, regulate the dress,
Retrench a sword-blade, or displace a patch:
But where are its sublimer trophies found?
What vice has it subdued? whose heart reclaim'd
By rigour, or whom laugh'd into reform?
Alas! Leviathan is not so tamed:

Laugh'd at he laughs again; and stricken hard,
Turns to the stroke his adamantine scales,
That fear no discipline of human hands.

The pulpit, therefore (and I name it, fill'
With solemn awe, that bids me well beware
With what intent I touch that holy thing)-
The pulpit (when the satirist has at last,
Strutting and vapouring in an empty school,
Spent all his force and made no proselyte)-
I say the pulpit (in the sober use

Of its legitimate, peculiar powers)

Must stand acknowledged, while the world shall stand,

The most important and effectual guard,

Support and ornament of Virtue's cause.

There stands the messenger of truth: there stands

The legate of the skies!-His theme divine,

His office sacred, his credentials clear.

By him the violated law speaks out

Its thunders; and by him, in strains as sweet
As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace.
He 'stablishes the strong, restores the weak,
Reclaims the wanderer, binds the broken heart,
And, arm'd himself in panoply complete
Of heavenly temper, furnishes with arms
Bright as his own, and trains, by every rule

Of holy discipline, to glorious war,

The sacramental hosts of God's elect!

Are all such teachers ?—would to Heaven all were!
But hark-the doctor's voice!-fast wedged between
Two empirics he stands, and with swollen cheeks
Inspires the news, his trumpet. Keener far
Than all invective is his bold harangue,
While through that public organ of report

He hails the clergy; and, defying shame,
Announces to the world his own and theirs!
He teaches those to read whom schools dismiss'
And colleges, untaught; sells accent, tone,
And emphasis in score, and gives to prayer
The adagio and andante it demands.

He grinds divinity of other days

Down into modern use; transforms old print

To zigzag manuscript, and cheats the eyes

Of gallery critics by a thousand arts.

Are there who purchase of the doctor's ware ?,

O, name it not in Gath!-it cannot be,

That grave and learned clerks should need such aid.
He doubtless is in sport, and does but droll,
Assuming thus a rank unknown before-
Grand caterer and dry-nurse of the church!

I venerate the man, whose heart is warm,
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,
Coineident, exhibit lucid proof

That he is honest in the sacred cause.

To such I render more than mere respect,

Whose actions say, that they respect themselves.
But loose in morals, and in manners vain,
In conversation frivolous, in dress
Extreme, at once rapacious and profuse;
Frequent in park with lady at his side,
Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes;
But rare at home, and never at his books,
Or with his pen, save when he scrawls a card;
Constant at routs, familiar with a round
Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor;
Ambitious of preferment for its gold,

And, well prepared, by ignorance and sloth,
By infidelity and love of world,

To make God's work a sinecure; a slave

To his own pleasures and his patron's pride;

From such apostles, O ye mitred heads,
Preserve the church! and lay not careless hands
On skulls, that cannot teach, and will not learn.
Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul,
Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own,
Paul should himself direct me. I would trace

His master-strokes, and draw from his design
I would express him simple grave, sincere;
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture; much impress'd
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of grace to guilty men.
Behold the picture !-Is it like ?-Like whom?
The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again; pronounce a text;
Cry-hem! and reading, what they never wrote,
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,
And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!
In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.

What!-will a man play tricks, will he indulge
A silly fond conceit of his fair form,
And just proportion, fashionable mien,
And pretty face, in presence of his God?
Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes,
As with the diamond on his lily hand,
And play his brilliant parts before my eyes,
When I am hungry for the bread of life?
He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames
His noble office, and, instead of truth,
Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock.
Therefore avaunt all attitude, and stare,
And start theatric, practised at the glass!
I seek divine simplicity in him,

Who handles things divine; and all besides,

Though learn'd with labour, and though much ad-
By curious eyes and judgments ill-inform'd, [mired
To me is odious as the nasal twang

Heard at conventicle, where worthy men,
Misled by custom, strain celestial themes

Through the press'd nostril, spectacle-bestrid.

Some decent in demeanour while they preach,
That task perform'd, relapse into themselves;
And having spoken wisely, at the close

Grow wanton, and give proof to every eye,
Whoe'er was edified, themselves were not!
Forth comes the pocket mirror.-First we stroke
An eyebrow; next compose a straggling lock;
Then, with an air most gracefully perform'd,
Fall back into our seat, extend an arm,
And lay it at its ease with gentle care,
With handkerchief in hand depending low:
The better hand more busy gives the nose
Its bergamot, or aids the indebted eye
With opera-glass, to watch the moving scene,
And recognise the slow-retiring fair.-
Now this is fulsome, and offends me more
Than in a churchman slovenly neglect

And rustic coarseness would. A heavenly mind
May be indifferent to her house of clay,
And slight the hovel as beneath her care;
But how a body so fantastic, trim,

And quaint in its deportment and attire,

Can lodge a heavenly mind-demands a doubt.
He that negociates between God and man,

As God's ambassador, the grand concerns
Of judgment and of mercy, should beware
Of lightness in his speech. "Tis pitiful

To court a grin, when you should woo a soul;
To break a jest, when pity would inspire
Pathetic exhortation; and to address
The skittish fancy with facetious tales,

When sent with God's commission to the heart!
So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip
Or merry turn in all he ever wrote,
And I consent you take it for your text,
Your only one, till sides and benches fail.
No: he was serious in a serious cause,

And understood too well the weighty terms
That he had taken in charge. He would not stoop

To conquer those by jocular exploits,

Whom truth and soberness assail'd in vain.

O popular applause! what heart of man

is proof against thy sweet-seducing charms ?
The wisest and the best feel urgent need
Of all their caution in thy gentlest gales;

But swell'd into a gust-who then, alas!

With all his canvass set, and inexpert,

And therefore heedless, can withstand thy power?
Praise from the shrivell'd lips of toothless, bald
Decrepitude, and in the looks of lean

And craving Poverty, and in the bow
Respectful of the smutch'd artificer,

Is oft too welcome, and may much disturb
The bias of the purpose. How much more,
Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and polite,
In language soft as Adoration breathes?
Ah, spare your idol! think him human still.
Charms he may have, but he has frailties too!
Dote not too much, nor spoil what ye admire.
All truth is from the sempiternal source

Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome
Drew from the stream below. More favour'd we
Drink, when we choose it, at the fountain-head.
To them it flow'd much mingled and defiled
With hurtful error, prejudice, and dreams
Illusive of philosophy, so call'd,

But falsely. Sages after sages strove

In vain to filter off a crystal draught

Pure from the lees, which often more enhanced

The thirst than slaked it, and not seldom bred
Intoxication and delirium wild.

In vain they push'd inquiry to the birth

Andspring-time of the world; ask'd, Whence is man?
Why form'd at all? and wherefore as he is?
Where must he find his Maker? with what rites
Adore him? Will he hear, accept, and bless?
Or does he sit regardless of his works?
Has man within him an immortal seed?
Or does the tomb take all? If he survive
His ashes, where? and in what weal or woe?
Knots worthy of solution, which alone

A Deity could solve. Their answers, vague,
And all at random, fabulous and dark,

Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of life,