“Then did he much his sober Hearers vex, “Confound the Simple and the Sad perplex; “To a new Style his Reverence rashly took; “Loud grew his Voice, to Threat’ning swell’d his Look; “Above, below, on either side, he gaz’d, “Amazing all and most himself amaz’d: “No more he read his Preachments pure and plain, “But launch’d outright and rose and sank again: “At times he smil’d in Scorn, at times he wept, } “And such sad Coil with Words of Vengeance kept,} “That our best Sleepers started as they slept. } “‘Conviction comes like Lightning,’ he would cry; “‘In vain you seek it and in vain you fly; “‘’Tis like the rushing of the mighty Wind, “‘Unseen its Progress, but its Power you find; “‘It strikes the Child ere yet its Reason wakes; “‘His Reason fled, the antient Sire it shakes; “‘The proud, learn’d Man, and him who loves to know “‘How and from whence these Gusts of Grace will blow, “‘It shuns,--but Sinners in their Way impedes, “‘And Sots and Harlots visits in their Deeds; “‘Of Faith and Penance it supplies the place; } “‘Assures the vilest that they live by Grace, } “‘And, without running, makes them win the Race.’} “Such was the Doctrine our young Prophet taught; “And here Conviction, there Confusion wrought: “When his thin Cheek assum’d a deadly Hue, “And all the Rose to one small Spot withdrew: “They call’d it hectic; ’twas a fiery Flush, “More fix’d and deeper than the maiden Blush; “His paler Lips the pearly Teeth disclos’d, “And lab’ring Lungs the length’ning Speech oppos’d. “No more his span-girth Shanks and quiv’ring Thighs, “Upheld a Body of the smaller Size; “But down he sank upon his Dying-Bed, “And gloomy Crotchets fill’d his wandering Head.-- “‘Spite of my Faith, all-saving Faith, he cried, “‘I fear of worldly works, the wicked Pride; “‘Poor as I am, degraded, abject, blind, “‘The good I’ve wrought still rankles in my Mind; “‘My Alms-deeds all and every Deed I’ve done, “‘My Moral-rags defile me every one; “‘It should not be:--what say’st thou? tell me, Ralph.’ “Quoth I, ‘Your Reverence, I believe, you’re safe; “‘Your Faith’s your Prop, nor have you pass’d such Time, “‘In Life’s Good-works as swell them to a Crime.-- “‘If I of Pardon for my Sins were sure, “‘About my Goodness I would rest secure.’ “Such was his End; and mine approaches fast; “I’ve seen my best of Preachers,--and my last.”-- He bow’d, and archly smil’d at what he said, Civil but sly:---- ‘And is old _Dibble_ dead?’ Yes! he is gone: and WE are going all; Like Flowers we wither and like Leaves we fall:-- Here, with an Infant, joyful Sponsors come, Then bear the new-made Christian to its Home: A few short Years and we behold him stand To ask a Blessing, with his Bride in hand: A few, still seeming shorter, and we hear