_Lawyers_ (a Commutation strange!) _Coke Littleton_ for _Bible_ change; Quit their beloved wrangling _Hall_, More loudly in a _Church_ to bawl: _Statutes at large_ are thrown aside, And now the _Testament_'s their guide; And full as fervent, on their Knees, For _Heav'n_ they pray, as once for _Fees_; _Plaintiff_, _Defendant_, and _my Lord_, Are banish'd, and now _Faith_'s the Word, Of _Briefs_ no longer now they dream, _Religion_ is the only Theme. The _Physic-Tribe_ their Art resign, And lose the _Quack_ in the _Divine_; _Galen_ lies on the Shelf unread, A _Pray'r-Book_ open in its stead; _Salvation_ now is all the _Cant_, _Salvation_ is the _only_ Want. "_Throw Physic to the Dogs_," they cry, 'Twill never bring you to the Sky. Of a _New-birth_ they prate, and prate While _Midwifry_ is out of Date; Let Fevers, Agues, take their turn, To freeze the Patient, or to burn, In vain he seeks the Physic Tribe, No _Recipe_ will they prescribe, But what is sovereign to controul The Maladies that hurt the Soul. And tho' while _Body-quacks_, with _Pill_ Or _Bolus_, 'twas their Trade to kill, More miserably still, alack! For the _diseased Soul_ they _quack_. The _Sons of War_ sometimes are known To fight with Weapons not their own, Ceasing the _Sword of Steel_ to wield, They take _Religion_'s _Sword and Shield_. Ev'ry _Mechanic_ will commence _Orator_, without _Mood_ or _Tense_. _Pudding_ is _Pudding_ still, they know, Whether it has a Plumb or no; So, tho' the Preacher has no skill, A _Sermon_ is a _Sermon_ still. The _Bricklay'r_ throws his _Trowel_ by, And now _builds Mansions in the Sky_; The _Cobbler_, touch'd with _holy Pride_, Flings his _old Shoes_, and _Last_ aside, And now devoutly sets about Cobbling of _Souls_ that _ne'er wear out_; The _Baker_, now a _Preacher_ grown, Finds Man _lives not by Bread alone_, And now his Customers he feeds With _Pray'rs_, with _Sermons_, _Groans_ and _Creeds_; The _Tinman_, mov'd by Warmth within, _Hammers_ the _Gospel_, just like _Tin_; _Weavers inspir'd_ their _Shuttles_ leave, _Sermons_, and _flimsy Hymns_ to weave; _Barbers_ unreap'd will leave the Chin, To trim, and shave the _Man within_; The _Waterman_ forgets his _Wherry_, And opens a _celestial Ferry_; The _Brewer_, bit by Phrenzy's Grub, The _Mashing_ for the _Preaching Tub_ Resigns, _those Waters_ to explore, Which if You drink, you _thirst no more_; The _Gard'ner_, weary of his Trade, Tir'd of the Mattock, and the Spade, Chang'd to _Apollos_ in a Trice, _Waters_ the _Plants of Paradise_; The _Fishermen_ no longer set For _Fish_ the Meshes of their Net, But catch, like _Peter_, _Men of Sin_, For _catching_ is to _take them in_.