For I did summon thee, and thy strong love Brooks not delay! Alas, thou knowest not It was to die within thy holy arms That I have asked thy presence! Oh! come, come, Thou most beloved being, bless thy son, And take one comfort in his peaceful death! [_A slight knocking is heard at the door, and the Philosopher enters._ _Philos._ Well, my young friend, I’ve looked in to enquire After your health. I saw your class depart, And would have conference with you once again. _Schol._ To-night I must decline your friendship, sir. I am so weak I cannot talk with you On controversial points ever again. Besides, my faith brings such a holy joy, Such large reward of peace, why would you shake it? Or is it now a time for doubts and fears, When my soul’s energy should be concentrated For one great trial? See you not, e’en now, The spectre death is with me? _Philos._ Cheer up, friend. It is the nature of all sickness thus To bring death near to the imagination, Even as a telescope doth show the moon Just at our finger-ends without decreasing The actual distance. Come, be not so gloomy;-- You have no business to be solitary; A cheerful friend will bring back cheerfulness. Have you perused the books I left with you? _Schol._ I have, and like them not! _Philos._ Indeed! indeed! Are they not full of lofty argument And burning eloquence? For a strong soul, Baptized in the immortal wells of thought, They must be glorious food! _Schol._ Pardon me, sir, They are too specious;--they gloss over error With tinsel covering which is not like truth. Oh! give them not to young and ardent minds, They will mislead, and baffle and confound: Besides, among the sages whom you boast of, With their proud heathen virtues, can ye find A purer, loftier, nobler character; More innocent, and yet more filled with wisdom, Fuller of high devotion--more heroic Than the Lord Jesus--dignified yet humble; Warring ’gainst sin, and yet for sinners dying? _Philos._ Well; pass the men, what say you to the morals? _Schol._ And where is the Utopian code of morals Equal to that which a few words set forth Unto the Christian, “do ye so to others As ye would they should do unto yourselves.” And where, among the fables of their poets, Which you pretend veil the divinest truths, Find you the penitent prodigal coming back Unto his father’s bosom; thus to show God’s love, and our relationship to him? Where do they teach us in our many needs To lift up our bowed, broken hearts to God, And call him “Father?” Leave me as I am! I am not ignorant, though my learning lie In this small book--nor do I ask for more! _Philos._ But have you read the parchments? _Schol._ All of them.