The instant grief and suffering were his own. So must I grieve for many a wounded heart, 60 Chill'd by those doubts which bolder minds impart: Truth in the end shall shine divinely clear, But sad the darkness till those times appear; Contests for truth, as wars for freedom, yield Glory and joy to those who gain the field; But still the Christian must in pity sigh For all who suffer, and uncertain die. Here are, who all the Church maintains approve, But yet the Church herself they will not love; In angry speech, they blame the carnal tie, 70 Which pure Religion lost her spirit by; What time from prisons, flames, and tortures led, She slumber'd careless in a royal bed; To make, they add, the Churches' glory shine. Should Diocletian reign, not Constantine. "In pomp," they cry, "is England's Church array'd; Her cool reformers wrought like men afraid. We would have pull'd her gorgeous temples down, And spurn'd her mitre, and defiled her gown; We would have trodden low both bench and stall, 80 Nor left a tithe remaining, great or small." Let us be serious.--Should such trials come, Are they themselves prepared for martyrdom? It seems to us that our reformers knew Th' important work they undertook to do; An equal priesthood they were loth to try, Lest zeal and care should with ambition die; To them it seem'd that, take the tenth away, Yet priests must eat, and you must feed or pay: Would they indeed, who hold such pay in scorn, 90 Put on the muzzle when they tread the corn? Would they, all gratis, watch and tend the fold, Nor take one fleece to keep them from the cold? Men are not equal, and 'tis meet and right That robes and titles our respect excite; Order requires it; 'tis by vulgar pride That such regard is censured and denied, Or by that false enthusiastic zeal, That thinks the spirit will the priest reveal, And show to all men, by their powerful speech, 100 Who are appointed and inspired to teach. Alas! could we the dangerous rule believe, Whom for their teacher should the crowd receive? Since all the varying kinds demand respect, All press you on to join their chosen sect, Although but in this single point agreed, "Desert your churches and adopt our creed." We know full well how much our forms offend The burthen'd Papist and the simple Friend-- Him who new robes for every service takes, 110 And who in drab and beaver sighs and shakes. He on the priest, whom hood and band adorn, Looks with the sleepy eye of silent scorn; But him I would not for my friend and guide, Who views such things with spleen, or wears with pride. See next our several sects--but first behold The Church of Rome, who here is poor and old: Use not triumphant rail'ry, or, at least,