'Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, In sweet memorial rise before the throne: These charms, success in our bright region find, 190 And force an angel down, to calm thy mind; For this commission'd, I forsook the sky-- Nay, cease to kneel--thy fellow-servant I!
'Then know the truth of government divine, And let these scruples be no longer thine.
'The Maker justly claims that world He made, In this the right of Providence is laid; Its sacred majesty through all depends On using second means to work His ends: 'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, 200 The power exerts His attributes on high, Your actions uses, not controls your will, And bids the doubting sons of men "be still!"
'What strange events can strike with more surprise, Than those which lately struck thy wondering eyes? Yet, taught by these, confess the Almighty just, And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!
'The great, vain man, who fared on costly food, Whose life was too luxurious to be good; Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine, 210 And forced his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.
'The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door, Ne'er moved in duty to the wandering poor; With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, 220 With heaping coals of fire upon its head; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And, loose from dross, the silver runs below.
'Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God; Child of his age, for him he lived in pain, And measured back his steps to earth again. To what excesses had his dotage run? But God, to save the father, took the son. To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, 230 And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow. The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns in tears the punishment was just.
'But how had all his fortune felt a wrack, Had that false servant sped in safety back? This night his treasured heaps he meant to steal, And what a fund of charity would fail!