And emphafis in fcore, and gives to pray'r
Th' adagio and andante it demands.
He grinds divinity of other days
Down into modern ufe; transforms old print
To zig-zag manufcript, and cheats the eyes
Of gall'ry critics by a thousand arts.-
Are there who purchase of the Doctor's ware?
Oh name it not in Gath!-it cannot be,
That grave and learned Clerks fhould need fuch aid,
He doubtless is in fport, and does but droll,
Affuming thus a rank unknown before,
Grand caterer and dry-nurfe of the church.
I venerate the man, whofe heart is warm, Whofe hands are pure, whofe doctrine and whofe life Coincident, exhibit lucid proof
That he is honeft in the facred cause.
To fuch I render more than mere respect,
Whofe actions fay that they respect themselves.
But loofe in morals, and in manners vain,
In converfation frivolous, in dress
Extreme, at once rapacious and profuse,
Frequent in park, with lady at his fide,
Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes,
But rare at home, and never at his books
Or with his pen, fave when he scrawls a card
Conftant at routs, familiar with a round
a ftranger to the poor;
Ambitious of preferment for its gold,
And well prepared by ignorance and sloth,
By infidelity and love o' th' world
To make God's work a finecure; a slave
To his own pleasures and his patron's pride.—
From fuch apoftles, Oh ye mitred heads
Preferve the church! and lay not careless hands
On fculls that cannot teach, and will not learn.
Would I defcribe a preacher, fuch as Paul Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own, Paul fhould himself direct me. I would trace
His mafter-strokes, and draw from his defign.
I would exprefs him fimple, grave, fincere;
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain;
And plain in manner. Decent, folemn, chaste,
And natural in gefture. Much impress'd
Himself, as confcious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too. Affectionate in look,
And tender in addrefs, as well becomes
A meffenger of grace to guilty men.
Behold the picture !-Is it like?-Like whom?
The things that mount the roftrum 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 minifters
And ferves the altar, in my foul I loath
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.
What!-will a man play tricks, will he indulge
A filly fond conceit of his fair form
And just proportion, fashionable mien
And pretty face in prefence of his God?
Or will he feek to dazzle me with tropes,
As with the di'mond 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, ftarves his flock.
Therefore avaunt! all attitude and stare
And start theatric, practifed at the glass.
I seek divine fimplicity in him
Who handles things divine; and all befide,
Though learn'd with labor, and though much admir'd By curious eyes and judgments ill-inform'd,
To me is odious as the nafal twang
At conventicle heard, where worthy men
Milled by custom, ftrain celeftial themes
Through the preft noftril, fpectacle-beftrid.
Some, decent in demeanor while they preach,
That task perform'd, relapfe into themselves,
And having spoken wifely, at the clofe
Grow wanton, and give proof to ev'ry eye-
Whoe'er was edified, themfelves were not.
Forth comes the pocket mirror. First we stroke
An eye-brow; next, compofe a ftraggling lock;
Then with an air, moft gracefully perform'd,
Fall back into our feat; extend an arm
And lay it at its eafe with gentle care,
With handkerchief in hand, depending low.
The better hand more bufy, gives the nofe
Its bergamot, or aids th' indebted eye
With op'ra glafs to watch the moving scene,
And recognize the flow-retiring fair.
Now this is fulfome; and offends me more
Than in a churchman flovenly neglect
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