But, filled as his heart was with some portion of these bad feelings, to which all flesh is subject, he kept, nevertheless, the fear of the Lord always before his eyes so far as never to omit any of the external duties of religion, and farther than that man hath no power to pry. He lodged with the family of a Mr. Miller, whose lady was originally from Glasgow, and had been a hearer and, of course, a great admirer of Mr. Wringhim. In that family he made public worship every evening; and that night, in his petitions at a throne of grace, he prayed for so many vials of wrath to be poured on the head of some particular sinner that the hearers trembled, and stopped their ears. But that he might not proceed with so violent a measure, amounting to excommunication, without due scripture warrant, he began the exercise of the evening by singing the following verses, which it is a pity should ever have been admitted into a Christian psalmody, being so adverse to all its mild and benevolent principles: Set thou the wicked over him, And upon his right hand Give thou his greatest enemy, Even Satan, leave to stand. And, when by thee he shall be judged, Let him remembered be; And let his prayer be turned to sin When he shall call on thee. Few be his days; and in his room His charge another take; His children let be fatherless; His wife a widow make: Let God his father's wickedness Still to remembrance call; And never let his mother's sin Be blotted out at all. As he in cursing pleasure took So let it to him fall; As he delighted not to bless, So bless him not at all. As cursing he like clothes put on, Into his bowels so, Like water, and into his bones Like oil, down let it go. Young Wringhim only knew the full purport of this spiritual song; and went to his bed better satisfied than ever that his father and brother were castaways, reprobates, aliens from the Church and the true faith, and cursed in time and eternity.