only serves to show What well may move the deepest sigh, And force a tear from pity’s eye. You there may see a meagre pair, Worn out with labour, grief, and care: Whose naked babes, in hungry mood, Complain of cold and cry for food; Whilst tears bedew the mother’s cheek, And sighs the father’s grief bespeak; For fire or raiment, bed or board, Their dreary shed cannot afford.

Will no kind hand confer relief, And wipe away the tear of grief? A little boon it well might spare Would kindle joy, dispel their care, p. 211Abate the rigour of the night And warm each heart—achievement bright. Yea, brighter far than such as grace The annals of a princely race, Where kings bestow a large domain But to receive as much again, Or e’en corrupt the purest laws, Or fan the breath of vain applause.

p. 211

Peace to the man who stoops his head To enter the most wretched shed: Who, with his condescending smiles, Poor diffidence and awe beguiles: Till all encouraged, soon disclose The different causes of their woes— The moving tale dissolves his heart: He liberally bestows a part Of God’s donation. From above Approving Heaven, in smiles of love, Looks on, and through the shining skies The great Recording Angel flies The doors of mercy to unfold, And write the deed in lines of gold; There, if a fruit of Faith’s fair tree, To shine throughout eternity, In honour of that Sovereign dread, Who had no place to lay His head, Yet opened wide sweet Mercy’s door To all the desolate and poor, Who, stung with guilt and hard oppressed, Groaned to be with Him, and at rest.

Now, pent within the city wall, They throng to theatre and hall, Where gesture, look, and words conspire, To stain the mind, the passions fire; p. 212Whence sin-polluted streams abound, That whelm the country all around. Ah! Modesty, should you be here, Close up the eye and stop the ear; Oppose your fan, nor peep beneath, And blushing shun their tainted breath.

p. 212

Here every rake exerts his art T’ ensnare the unsuspecting heart. The prostitute, with faithless smiles, Remorseless plays her tricks and wiles. Her gesture bold and ogling eye, Obtrusive speech and pert reply, And brazen front and stubborn tone, Show all her native virtue’s flown. By her the thoughtless youth is ta’en, Impoverished, disgraced, or slain: Through her the marriage vows are broke, And Hymen proves a galling yoke. Diseases come, destruction’s dealt, Where’er her poisonous breath is felt; Whilst she, poor wretch, dies in the flame That runs through her polluted 

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