Though doomed through many a night It all is fair to me, For I am going home. NEW YEAR'S HYMN. [BISHOP MIDDLETON.] As o'er the past my memory strays, The world, and worldly things beloved, Yet Holy Father! wild despair, My life's brief remnant all be thine : And when thy sure decree Bids me this fleeting breath resign, MORALITY IN THE FIELDS. [ADDISON.] WITH toilsome steps when I pursue And when with seed I strew the earth, Pleas'd, I behold the stately stem Support its bearded honour's load; Thus, Lord, sustain'd by thee I came To manhood, through youth's dang❜rous road. Purging from noxious herbs the grain, Life, thus replete with various woe, When harvest comes, the yellow crop When future crops, in silent hoards, SELF-DENIAL. A Dialogue between the Flesh and the Spirit. [BAXTER,] Flesh. WHAT! become nothing! ne'er persuade me God made me something; and I'll not undo it. [to it. Spirit. Thy something is not thine, but his that gave it. Resign to him, if thou mean to save it. Flesh. God gave me life: and shall I choose to die Before my time, or pine in misery? Spirit. God is thy life: if then thou fearest death; Let him be all thy soul, thy pulse, and breath. Flesh. What! must I hate myself? whenas my brother Must love me! and I may not hate another? Spirit. Loath what is loathsome. Love God, in the rest He truly loves himself, that loves God best. Flesh. Doth God our ease and pleasure to us grudge? Or doth religion make a man a drudge? Spirit. That is thy poison which thou callest pleasure: And that thy drudgery which thou count'st thy treasure. Flesh. Who can endure to be thus mewed up? And under laws for every bit and cup? Spirit. God's cage is better than the wilderness. When winter comes, liberty brings distress. Flesh. Pleasure's man's happiness: the will's not free To choose our misery: this cannot be. Spirit. God is man's end: with him are highest joys. Sensual pleasures are but dreams and toys. Should sin seem sweet? Is Satan turn'd thy friend? Will not thy sweet prove bitter in the end Hast thou found sweeter pleasures than God's love? Beauty surpasseth all deceitful paints : God would not have thee have less joy, but more : Flesh. Who can love baseness, poverty, and want? And under pining sickness be content? Spirit. He that hath laid his treasure up above; Flesh. What good will sorrow do us? Is not mirth, Taste not the sweet that endless sorrow brings. Look not for lasting joys in doing ill. Flesh. Affliction's bitter: life will soon be done: Husbandmen would have the best ground and air. pleasure Like the beholding of thy chiefest treasure. Flesh. Nature made me a man, and gave me sense: Changing of nature is a vain pretence : It taught me to love women, honour, ease, Spirit. Nature hath made thee rational; and reason Must rule the sense, in ends, degrees, and season. Reason's the rider; sense is but the horse: Spirit. Cupid hath stuck a feather in thy cap; Playing a game at folly, thou hast lost Flesh. Why should I think of what will be to-morrow? An ounce of mirth is worth a pound of sorrow. [thee? Spirit. But where's that mirth when sorrows overtake Will it then hold when life and God forsake thee? Forgetting death or Hell will not prevent it. Now lose thy day, thou'lt then too late repent it. Flesh. Must I be pain'd and wronged, and not feel? As if my heart were made of flint or steel? Spirit. Dost thou delight to feel thy hurt and smart? Would not an antidote preserve thy heart? Impatience is but self-tormenting folly: Patience is cordial, easy, sweet, and holy. Is not that better which turns grief to peace, Than that which doth thy misery increase? |