“This world is fast hasting away, Thomas Brown, And short are the pleasures of man;” Then there’s no time to spare, let us drive away care, And merrily live while we can. “But what when this world you shall leave, Thomas Brown, If your soul in dread torments should lie?” Why that to be sure, would be hard to endure, But I cannot well help it, not I. “Yet the wretch under sentence of death, Thomas Brown, Would be glad for a pardon to run!” Why, yes, so would I, if condemned to die; But I know not what harm I have done. “The Bible will tell you your sins, Thomas Brown, And a Saviour will bring to your view:” The learn’d there may look, but I can’t read the book; It may, or it may not be true. “Hie away to the church on the hill, Thomas Brown, For if you can’t read you can hear:” The man with the band I shall not understand; The rich and the wise may go there. “The Gospel is preach’d to the poor, Thomas Brown, And would lighten your cares, do not doubt it.” You speak like a friend, but I do not intend To trouble myself much about it. “Could I tell you where treasure is hid, Thomas Brown, You would spare neither labour nor pains.” In that you are right; I would dig day and night, And merrily live on my gains. “But what, should you gain the whole world, Thomas Brown, And lose your own soul, at the last?” Why, my courage would cool; I should then prove a fool, And sorely repent of the past. “Seek in time for the kingdom of God, Thomas Brown, And your pleasures will never decay.” I feel half inclined to become of your mind, And I hope I shall do as you say. “May the God of all peace give you grace, Thomas Brown, In his fear and his favour to dwell;” Your wish is most kind, I shall bear it in mind; And so for the present farewell. SECOND DIALOGUE. SUNDAY MORNING. “Whither go you, so clean and well clad, Thomas Brown? For your jacket’s a new one, I see.” Sir, I go, with good will, to the church on the hill, To thank God for his goodness to me. “To hear this, it does my heart good, Thomas Brown, And I hope you’ll continue to go.” This, Sir, I intend; and as you are my friend, You’ll be pleased something further to know. When, after our converse, I first went to church, I remember’d the days of my folly, When I heard them at prayer, I thought God must be there, And the place appear’d solemn and holy. The prayers being over, then sweetly they sung; I felt glad that I had gone in; The sermon came next, and this was the text, “That death is the wages of sin.” The minister told us, that all wicked men Who the paths of iniquity trod, Would be turn’d into hell, in darkness to dwell, And all people forgetting their God.