8
Go, doubting man, turn from this blissful scene,
And visit him who calls Religion mean,
Her light too dim, her hopes too low for man,
Who will deny the truths he dares not scan:
His actions dark, his heart by sin enthrall'd,
He seeks his guilty pleasures in the world;
And laws to him would prove a galling chain:
Go, sec him stretch'd upon the bed of pain!
See how impatiently he raving lies,
Cursing the hours he thus must sacrifice;
And, when he feels his strength is waning fast,
And thinks perhaps this night may be his last,
Then see in what a trembling wretched state
He waits the dreadful summons of his fate!
Mark, when he knows all earthly hope is lost,
On what a troubled sea his soul is tost!—
No pilot now appears to guide his course—
No anchor left to stem the torrent's force!
Shuddering with pain of body and of mind,
He seeks in vain some kind relief to find;
He feels the shatter'd vessel sinking fast,
And owns, deluded man, the truth at last!
And visit him who calls Religion mean,
Her light too dim, her hopes too low for man,
Who will deny the truths he dares not scan:
His actions dark, his heart by sin enthrall'd,
He seeks his guilty pleasures in the world;
And laws to him would prove a galling chain:
Go, sec him stretch'd upon the bed of pain!
See how impatiently he raving lies,
Cursing the hours he thus must sacrifice;
And, when he feels his strength is waning fast,
And thinks perhaps this night may be his last,
Then see in what a trembling wretched state
He waits the dreadful summons of his fate!
Mark, when he knows all earthly hope is lost,
On what a troubled sea his soul is tost!—
No pilot now appears to guide his course—
No anchor left to stem the torrent's force!
Shuddering with pain of body and of mind,
He seeks in vain some kind relief to find;
He feels the shatter'd vessel sinking fast,
And owns, deluded man, the truth at last!
