The licence of the rebel Soul lament,
Defame their Church as basely lenient,

Her scanty graces mark with jealous eye,
Grow madly amorous on Tyranny,

Devise dishonour to the Light they shun,
Discover dimness in the Gospel Sun,

The midnight tapers' treacherous glare display
To do the office of the Lord of Day,

Pray back the Past with all its cloudy train,
And bid Truth's brightening sky grow dark again.
They fain would fright the Soul with noisy wrath,
Exhaust their impotence, to stop her path,
Arrest her as some disobedient thrall,

And drag her back, a fettered criminal!

Hail, gracious Discord! help to set us free!

Be cruel to thyself, blind Bigotry!

To suicidal wrath inflame thy crew,

And leave for Truth but little work to do! Reluctant priests may struggle still for sway, And despots aid, but Heaven must win the day!

Their hosts the captives of its sword and shield! Their vanquished lusts the trophies of the field! No rival sect dominion seek to win,

And brand the sinner yet repeat the sin ; Faith quaff exhaustless sustenance from Love, Nor own a Sovereign but her Lord above!

BOOK IV

BOOK IV.

ARGUMENT.

SPONTANEOUS Love contrasted with State-supported Religionthe nature, beauty, and efficacy of the former principle. Its power manifested in the Creation, in the life of Christ, the labours of his Apostles and in the early triumphs of Christianity-almost stifled in the rude embrace of the world and assailed by the Church it had founded. Its persecutions, its endurance, its vitality, its mighty struggles, its gradual triumphs. Its peculiar successes in our age and country-the institution of Sunday Schools-the abolition of Slavery-the victories of Missionary warfare-Conclusion.

BOOK IV.

Ἡ ἀγάπη ουδέποτε ἐκπίπτει

Love never faileth.-ST. PAUL.

As Israel turned in triumph from the waste,
Closed her long wandering, doubt and terror chased,
Smiled on the dewless sky and burning sand
In bursting prospect of the Promised Land,
And passed from peril, weakness, want and toil,
To strength and glory on a happier soil;

So joys the Muse, that, loth to take her way
In dreary converse with Faith-cumbering Sway,
Hang on its steps through changing age and clime,
Nor lose the track of blood, the scent of crime,