A Meditation

Why should the pure immortal Mind, That cannot circumscribed be Within the Bonds of Flesh and Blood, Seem to fallacious Toys inclin'd; Neglective of the chiefest Good, And only true Felicity, The never-fading Joys of vast Eternity.

Where wretched Infants naked hurl'd Upon the Banks of sullen Cares, To beg the Favours of the World, And only be involv'd in Snares, And suckled at the Breasts of Misery Unless in all things they comply With Earth's imperious Nods, and fordid Tyranny?

No, no; that all-discerning Eye, That with a strict observant Look Survey the Corners of the Universe, And Tokens of his Power disperse Therein, who now and ever took Care of the Helpless, cannot pass them by, Since the young Ravens wants he doth supply.

But an instructive Lesson's learned hence, That helpless Man might look unto The all-preserving Hand of Providence, From whom alone all Blessings flow; To whom alone our humble Eye Should always in Sincerity Be lifted up, for he'll regard our earnest Cry.

Tho' Infants many Days do more Regard the Pap than her that gives it, They learn in Time both to implore Help, and t' acknowledge who relieves it; And, tho' they do not want the Breast, Would with their tender Mother's Bosom ever rest.

Thus is not both our Heart and Mind Taught with Magnetick Influence Or Sacred Love and Sympathy, That we thereby might be inclin'd To soar above the Sphere of Sense, Of perishing Mortality; Yea, with unwearied Fervency, Seek the sublimer Joys of bright Eternity?