Oft would the youths, with sprightly speech and bold, Their witty tales of naughty priests unfold; 'Twas all a craft,' they said, 'a cunning trade; Not she the priests, but priests Religion made.' So I believed:"--No, Abel! to thy grief: So thou relinquish'dst all that was belief: - "I grew as very flint, and when the rest Laugh'd at devotion, I enjoy'd the jest; But this all vanish'd like the morning-dew, When unemploy'd, and poor again I grew; Yea! I was doubly poor, for I was wicked too. "The mouse that trespass'd and the treasure stole, Found his lean body fitted to the hole; Till, having fatted, he was forced to stay, And, fasting, starve his stolen bulk away: Ah ! worse for me--grown poor, I yet remain In sinful bonds, and pray and fast in vain. "At length I thought, although these friends of sin Have spread their net, and caught their prey therein; Though my hard heart could not for mercy call, Because though great my grief, my faith was small; Yet, as the sick on skilful men rely, The soul diseased may to a doctor fly. "A famous one there was, whose skill had wrought Cures past belief, and him the sinners sought; Numbers there were defiled by mire and filth, Whom he recovered by his goodly tilth: 'Come then,' I said, 'let me the man behold, And tell my case:'--I saw him and I told. "With trembling voice, 'Oh! reverend sir,' I said, 'I once believed, and I was then misled; And now such doubts my sinful soul beset, I dare not say that I'm a Christian yet; Canst thou, good sir, by thy superior skill, Inform my judgment and direct my will? Ah! give thy cordial; let my soul have rest, And be the outward man alone distress'd; For at my state I tremble.'--'Tremble more,' Said the good man, 'and then rejoice therefore! 'Tis good to tremble; prospects then are fair, When the lost soul is plunged in deep despair: Once thou wert simply honest, just, and pure, Whole, as thou thought'st, and never wish'd a cure: Now thou hast plunged in folly, shame, disgrace, Now thou'rt an object meet for healing grace; No merit thine, no virtue, hope, belief, Nothing hast thou, but misery, sin, and grief; The best, the only titles to relief.' 'What must I do,' I said, 'my soul to free?' - 'Do nothing, man; it will be done for thee.' 'But must I not, my reverend guide, believe?' - 'If thou art call'd, thou wilt the faith receive.' 'But I repent not.'--Angry he replied, 'If thou art call'd, though needest nought beside: Attend on us, and if 'tis Heaven's decree, The call will come,--if not, ah! woe for thee.' "There then I waited, ever on the watch, A spark of hope, a ray of light to catch; His words fell softly like the flakes of snow, But I could never find my heart o'erflow: He cried aloud, till in the flock began The sigh, the tear, as caught from man to man; They wept and they rejoiced, and there was I Hard as a flint, and as the desert dry: To me no tokens of the call would come, I felt my sentence, and received my doom;