. Night thoughts. ns, and the strokes of Deity believd, is joy begun;A Deity adord, is joy advancd;A Deity belovd, is joy maturd. 715 Each branch of Piety delight inspires;Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,Oer Deaths dark gulph, and all its horror hides;Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still; 720 Prayr ardent opens heavn, lets down a streamOf glory on the consecrated hourOf Man, in audience with the worships the great God, that instant joinsThe first in heavn, and sets his foot on hell. 725 Lorenzo! when wast thou a
. Night thoughts. ns, and the strokes of Deity believd, is joy begun;A Deity adord, is joy advancd;A Deity belovd, is joy maturd. 715 Each branch of Piety delight inspires;Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,Oer Deaths dark gulph, and all its horror hides;Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still; 720 Prayr ardent opens heavn, lets down a streamOf glory on the consecrated hourOf Man, in audience with the worships the great God, that instant joinsThe first in heavn, and sets his foot on hell. 725 Lorenzo! when wast thou at church before?Thou thinkst the service long: But is it just?Though just, unwelcome: Thou hadst rather treadUnhallowd ground; the muse, to win thine ear, -Must take an air less solemn. She complies. 730Good conscience! at the sound the world retires;Verse disaffects it, and Lorenzo smiles;Yet has she her seraglio full of charms;And such as age shall heighten, not thou dejected? Is thy mind oercast? 735. £,v At.,4 - ir/t/r t/h/i /// <•/// //.j //iyirr/i,f/.i eurum a. .////a, London Published, ^■; iv •//«.././//,y-v Sqttm VIRTUE S APOLOGY. 231 Amid her fair ones, thou the fairest chuse, To chase thy gloom.— Go, fix some weighty truth; Chain down some passion; do some genrous good; Teach Ignorance to see, or Grief to smile; Correct thy friend; befriend thy greatest foe; 740 Or with warm heart, and confidence divine, Spring up, and lay strong hold on Him who made thee.—Thy gloom is scatterd, sprightly spirits flow:Though witherd is thy vine, and harp unstrung. Dost call the bowl, the viol, and the dance, 745Loud mirth, mad laughter? Wretched comforters!Physicians! more than half of thy , though never censurd yet as sin(Pardon a thought that only seems severe,)Is half-immoral: Is it much indulgd? 750 By venting spleen, or dissipating thought,It shews a scorner, or it makes a fool;And sins, as hurting others, or ours
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