I listen’d awhile, and felt struck with fear, A cloud seem’d to hang over my head, A tear stood in my eye, and I could not tell why, But my heart was as heavy as lead. On the morrow I spake of what I had heard, While my shopmates were laughing and lazy, And I should have said more, but they set up a roar, And cried out, “Tom Brown is gone crazy!” Then I laugh’d and I sung with the best of them all, And tried to forget what had pass’d; But I thought in my mind, shall I good in this find, If I lose my own soul at the last? So again the next Sunday I went to the church, Though my shopmates all join’d to upbraid; For I thought why should I, fear a man that will die, More than Him by whom all things were made? The minister spake so loud and so plain That the poorest might well understand; “Repent ye,” said he, and seem’d pointing at me, “For the kingdom of God is at hand.” I felt myself vile as he told me my sins; That he knew them I could not well doubt it; For it came in my head, what to you I had said, And I thought you had told all about it. When I heard what my Saviour had suffer’d, I wept; How he groan’d and he died on the tree; But O, the blest hour! for the word came with power, And I knew that he suffer’d for me. Thus God has dealt with me, and thus has been pleased His great goodness and grace to impart; It was terror and dread, that first bowed down my head, But ’twas mercy that melted my heart. Every week from my wages a sixpence I spare, A Bible to buy, for I need it; And when time I can spare, to a friend I repair, Who has promised to teach me to read it. And you, Sir, have been a most kind friend to me: This I own, though I cannot repay; But yet there is one, who this kindness will own At the last and the great judgment day. For myself, as becomes a poor, weak, sinful man, I will pray for support from on high; To walk in God’s ways, my Saviour to praise, And to trust in his grace till I die. And though poor, and unwise in the ways of the world, I believe in the truth of God’s word, That _true riches_ are they, which will not pass away, And _true wisdom_, the fear of the Lord. * * * * * * * * * * _London_: _Printed by_ AUGUSTUS APPLEGATH & EDWARD COWPER, _Duke-street_, _Stamford-street_, _and sold by_ F. COLLINS, _No._ 14, _Newgate-street_; _and_ EVANS _and_ SONS, 42, _Long-lane_, _Smithfield_.