THO HOU, whom nor honours, wealth, nor youth can spoil With the leaft vice of each luxuriant foil, Say, YORKE, (for fure, if any, thou canft tell) In fynods faith, and in the fields of fame True churchmen zeal right orthodox; and hence But have we then no law befides our will? As well at noon we may obstruct our fight, For to pursue that end muft virtue be. Then what is that? not want of power, or fame, Or worlds unnumber'd to applaud his name, But a defire his bleffings to diffuse, And fear left millions fhou'd exiftence lofe; His goodness only cou'd his power employ, Thousands of funs beyond each other blaze, Orbs roll o'er orbs, and glow with mutual rays; In ev'ry tract of ocean, earth, and skies, No fruit our palate courts, or flow'r our smell, The daily bounties of their Maker's care: Pleas'd on the wide-expanded joy looks down, That all contribute to the general bliss. Nature so plain this primal law displays, How eafy is our yoke! how light our load! } For |