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To live to God, is to requite

His love as best we may ;

To make his precepts our delight,
His promises our stay.

But life, within a narrow ring
Of giddy joys compriz'd,

Is falsely nam'd, and no such thing,
But rather death disguis'd,

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
Which God asserts his own,
Dishonour with unhallow'd play,
And worship Chance alone!

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
Till man resigns his breath,
Speaks him a Criminal, assur'd
Of everlasting death.

Sad period to a pleasant course!

Yet so will God repay

Sabbaths profan'd without remorse,
And Mercy cast away.

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
Demands one moment of thy fleeting time.

Consult Life's silent clock, thy bounding vein;

Seems it to say " Health, here, has long to reign?”
Hast thou the vigour of thy youth ?-
-an eye

That beams delight?-a heart untaught to sigh?
Yet fear. Youth, oftimes healthful, and at ease,
Anticipates a day it never sees;

And many a tomb, like HAMILTON's, aloud
Exclaims, Prepare thee for an early shroud.”

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CA

BOD

Printed by J. Wakefield, Newport-Pagnell.

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