To live to God, is to requite His love as best we may ; To make his precepts our delight, But life, within a narrow ring Is falsely nam'd, and no such thing, Can life in them deserve the name, Who only live, to prove For what poor toys, they can disclaim An endless life above? Who, much diseas'd, yet nothing feel ; Much menac'd, nothing dread; Have wounds, which only God can heal, Yet never ask his aid! Who deem his house an useless place; Faith, want of common sense; And ardour in the Christian race, A hypocrite's pretence! Who trample Order; and the day If scorn of God's commands, impress'd On word and deed, imply The better part of man, unbless'd With Life that cannot die; Such want it ;-and that want uncur'd Sad period to a pleasant course! Yet so will God repay Sabbaths profan'd without remorse, An Epitaph ON MR. T. A. HAMILTON, In the Church Yard of Newport-Pagnell. Who died July 7, 1788, in the 32d year of his age. PAUSE here, and think. A monitory Rhyme Consult Life's silent clock, thy bounding vein; Seems it to say " Health, here, has long to reign?” That beams delight?-a heart untaught to sigh? And many a tomb, like HAMILTON's, aloud CA BOD Printed by J. Wakefield, Newport-Pagnell. |