bear the words of a madman-not with regard, but with a compassion of his misery?

What wonder if we and our preaching be despised when the ministry of the apostles did succeed no better! What wonder if for all we can say or do our hearers still set light by Christ and their own salvation, when the apostles' hearers did the same! They that did second their doctrine by miracles, if any men could have shaken the hearts of their hearers they could have done it. You may see, then, that it is not merely for want of good preachers that men make light of Christ and salvation. It will be thus with many; let us be glad if it be not thus with all.

But for closer application, seeing this is the great condemning sin, before we inquire after it in the hearts of our hearers, it beseems us to begin at home and see that we, who are preachers of the Gospel, be not guilty of it ourselves. The Lord forbid that they that have undertaken the sacred office of revealing the excellences of Christ to the world, should make light of it themselves, and slight that salvation which they daily preach. Oh, that there were no cause thus to complain. But do not the negligent studies of some speak it out? Doth not their dead and drowsy preaching declare it? Doth not the carelessness of their private endeavours discover it? Doth not the continued neglect of those things wherein the interest of Christ consisteth reveal it -the churches' purity, and reformation, and unity? . . . Of all men on earth, there are few that are in so sad a condition as such ministers.

...

Beloved hearers, the office that God hath called us to is by declaring the glory of his grace to help, under Christ, to the saving of men's souls. I hope you think not that I came hither to-day on any other errand. The Lord knows, I had not set foot out of doors but in hope to succeed in this work. . . . Were it but possible for one of us to see the whole of this business as the all-seeing God doth; to see at one view both heaven and hell, which men are so near, and see what most men in the world are minding and what they are doing every day, it would be the saddest sight that could be imagined. Oh, how should we marve! at their madness and lament their delusion!

The Folly and Danger of making light of Christ. ⚫ A most forcible and pathetic appeal.'—DR. CHALMERS.

[§ 2. FROM THE RESTORATION TO THE DEATH OF WILLIAM II.] 109. Samuel Butler, 1612-1680. (Handbook, pars. 109, 175, 327.)

Is remarkable for humeur and droll rhymes. Pervading his Hudibras is a spirit of practical wisdom that is often instructive. In his Genuine Remains (1759) he is serious; noting the opinions and follies of his age.

Sir Hudibras and his Accomplishments.

When civil dudgeon first grew high,
And men fell out, they knew not why,
When hard words, jealousies, and fears,
Set folks together by the ears; ..

When gospel-trumpeter, surrounded
By long-eared rout, to battle sounded,
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,
Was beat with fist instead of a stick;
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a-colonelling.

A wight he was, whose very sight would
Entitle him mirror of knighthood,
That never bowed his stubborn knee
To anything but chivalry,

Nor put up blow but that which laid
Right worshipful on shoulder blade.

...

We grant, altho' he had much wit,
He was very shy of using it;
As being loth to wear it out,
And therefore bore it not about,
Unless on holidays or so,
As men their best apparel do.
Besides, 'tis known he could speak Greek,
As naturally as pigs squeak.

That Latin was no more difficile

Than to a blackbird 'tis to whistle :
Being rich in both, he never scanted
His bounty unto such as wanted;
But much of either would afford
To many that had not one word.

He was in logic a great critic, Profoundly skilled in analytic.

He could distinguish and divide

A hair 'twixt south and south-west side;
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute.
He'd undertake to prove, by force
Of argument,- -a man's no horse;
He'd prove a buzzard-is no fowl,
And that a lord may be-an owl;
A calf—an alderman; a goose-a justice;
And rooks-committee-men and trustees.
He'd run in debt by disputation,
And pay with ratiocination.
All this by syllogism, true

In mood and figure, he would do.
For rhetoric-he could not ope
His mouth but out there flew a trope;
And when he happen'd to break off
I' the middle of his speech or cough,
He had hard words ready to show why,
And tell what rules he did it by;
Else, when with greatest art he spoke,
You'd think he talked like other folk;
For all a rhetorician's rules

Teach nothing but to name his tools.
But, when he pleased to show't, his speech
In loftiness of sound was rich;

A Babylonish dialect,

Which learned pedants much affect.
It was a parti-colour'd dress

Of patched and piebald languages:
Twas English cut on Greek and Latin,
As fustian heretofore on satin :
It had an odd promiscuous tone,

As if he had talked three parts in one;
Which made some think when he did gabble
They had heard three labourers of Babel,
Or Cerberus himself pronounce

A leash of languages at once.

Modern Warfare Satirized.

"Tis true, our modern way of war Is grown more politic by far,

But not so resolute and bold,

Nor tied to honour as the old.
For now they laugh at giving battle,
Unless it be to herds of cattle,

Or fighting convoys of provision,
The whole design o' th' expedition;
And not with downright blows to rout
The enemy, but eat them out. . . .

There's now no fear of wounds nor maiming;
All dangers are reduced to famine:

And feats of arms, to plot, design,
Surprise, and stratagem, and mine;

For 'tis not now, who's stout and bold?
But who bears hunger best and cold?
And he's approved the most deserving
Who longest can hold out at starving:
And he that routs most pigs and cows is
The formidablest man of prowess.

The Weakness and Misery of Mar.
Who would believe that wicked earth,
Where nature only brings us forth
To be found guilty and forgiven,
Should be a nursery for heaven;

When all we can expect to do
Will not pay half the debt we owe,
And yet more desperately dare,
As if that wretched trifle were
Too much for the eternal powers,
Our great and mighty creditors,
Not only slight what they enjoin,
But pay it in adulterate coin?
We only in their mercy trust,
To be more wicked and unjust;
All our devotions, vows, and prayers
Are our own interest, not theirs :

Our offerings when we come t'adore,
But begging presents, nothing more⚫
The purest business of our zeal

Is but to err by meaning well,

And make that meaning do more harm,
Than our worst deeds that are less warm:
For the most wretched and perverse

Does not believe himself he errs. . . .

That wealth, that bounteous Fortune sends,
As presents to her dearest friends,

Is oft laid out upon the purchase
Of two yards long in parish churches;
And those two happy men that bought it,
Had lived, and happier too, without it.
For what does vast wealth bring, but cheat,
Law, luxury, disease, and debt,

Pain, pleasure, discontent, and sport,

An easy-troubled life, and short?

Genuine Remains. Satires.

Far greater numbers have been lost by hopes
Than all the magazines of daggers, ropes,
And other ammunitions of despair,

Were ever able to despatch by fear

In Rome no temple was so low
As that of Honour, built to show
How humble honour ought to be,
Though there 'twas all authority.

Ib. Miscellaneous Thoughts.

Such as do build their faith upon
The holy text of pike and gun,
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery,

And prove their doctrine orthodox,
By apostolic blows and knocks.

Hudibras, pt. i., canto i., l. 195–200.