VIII.
Kind star, still may'st thou shed they sacred influence here,
Or from thy private peaceful orb appear;
For, sure, we want some guide from Heav'n to show
The way which ev'ry wandr'ing fool below
Pretends so perfectly to know;
And which for aught I see, and much I fear,
The world has wholly miss'd;
I mean the way which leads to Christ:
Mistaken ideots! see how giddily they run,
Led blindly on by avarice and pride,
What mighty numbers follow them;
Each fond of erring with his guide:
Some whom ambition drives, seek Heaven's high Son
In Cæsar's court, or in Jerusalem;
Others, ignorantly wise,
Among proud doctors and disputing pharisees:
What could the sages gain but unbelieving scorn;
Their faith was so uncourtly when they said
That Heaven s high Son was in a village born;
That the world's Saviour had been
In a vile manger laid,
And foster'd in a wretched inn?
IX.
Necessity, thou tyrant conscience of the great,
Say, why the church is still led blindfold by the state;
Why should the first be ruin'd and laid waste,
To mend dilapidations in the last?
