What vice has it subdued? whose heart reclaimed By rigour, or whom laughed into reform? Alas, Leviathan is not so tamed. Laughed at, he laughs again; and, stricken hard, Turns to the stroke his adamantine scales, That fear no discipline of human hands. The pulpit therefore—and I name it, filled With solemn awe, that bids me well beware With what intent I touch that holy thing— The pulpit, when the satirist has at last, Strutting and vapouring in an empty school, Spent all his force, and made no proselyte— I say the pulpit, in the sober use Of its legitimate peculiar powers, Must stand acknowledged, while the world shall stand, The most important and effectual guard, Support, and ornament of virtue’s cause. There stands the messenger of truth; there stands The legate of the skies; his theme divine, His office sacred, his credentials clear. By him, the violated Law speaks out Its thunders, and by him, in strains as sweet As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace. He stablishes the strong, restores the weak, Reclaims the wanderer, binds the broken heart, And, armed himself in panoply complete Of heavenly temper, furnishes with arms Bright as his own, and trains, by every rule Of holy discipline, to glorious war, The sacramental host of God’s elect. Are all such teachers? would to heaven all were! But hark—the Doctor’s voice—fast wedged between Two empirics he stands, and with swollen cheeks Inspires the news, his trumpet. Keener far Than all invective is his bold harangue, While through that public organ of report He hails the clergy, and, defying shame, Announces to the world his own and theirs, He teaches those to read whom schools dismissed, And colleges, untaught; sells accents, tone, And emphasis in score, and gives to prayer The adagio and andante it demands. He grinds divinity of other days Down into modern use; transforms old print To zigzag manuscript, and cheats the eyes Of gallery critics by a thousand arts.— Are there who purchase of the Doctor’s ware? Oh name it not in Gath!—it cannot be, That grave and learned Clerks should need such aid. He doubtless is in sport, and does but droll, Assuming thus a rank unknown before, Grand caterer and dry-nurse of the Church.