But lips that dare be so profane, The Lord shall cut them off. When children, in their wanton play, Serv'd old Elisha so; And bid the prophet go his way, "Go up, thou bald-head, go;" God quickly stopp'd their wicked breath, And sent two raging bears, That tore them limb from limb to death, With blood, and groans, and tears. Great God, how terrible art thou To sinners e'er so young! Grant me thy grace, and teach me how To tame and rule my tongue. 22. Against Swearing and Cursing, and taking God's Name in vain. ANGELS that high in glory dwell, And yet how wicked children dare Abuse thy glorious dreadful name! And when they 're angry, how they swear, And curse their fellows, and blaspheme! How will they stand before thy face, Who treated thee with such disdain ; While thou shalt doom them to the place Of everlasting fire and pain? Then never shall one cooling drop, But I will praise thee here, and hope I'll leave thy friendship when I hear Young sinners take thy name in vain, And learn to curse and learn to swear? 23. Against Pride in Clothes. WHY should our garments, made to hide Our parents' shame, provoke our pride? The art of dress did ne'er begin 'Till Eve, our mother, learnt to sin. When first she put the covering on, Her robe of innocence was gone; And yet her children vainly boast In the sad marks of glory lost. How proud we are, how fond to shew Our clothes,and call them rich and new; When the poor sheep and silkworm wore The very clothing long before! Let me be drest fine as I will, Then will I set my heart to find Inward adornings of the mind: Knowledge and virtue, truth and grace, These are the robes of richest dress. No more shall worms with me compare; This is the raiment angels wear : The Son of God, when here below, 24. The Child's Complaint. WHY should I love my sport so well, So constant at my play; And lose the thoughts of heav'n and hell, And then forget to pray? What do I read my Bible for, But, Lord, to learn thy will? And shall I daily know thee more, And less obey thee still? How senseless is my heart, and wild! How vain are all my thoughts! Pity the weakness of a child, And pardon all my faults. D Make me thy heav'nly voice to hear, 25. A Morning Song. My God, who makes the sun to know His proper hour to rise, And, to give light to all below, Doth send him round the skies: When from the chambers of the east He never tires, nor stops to rest, So, like the sun, would I fulfil Give me, O Lord! thy early grace, That the young morning of my days Has all been spent in vain. |