The eighth EPISTLE to Cousin F. R

Shall transitory Toys, vile Chaff and Dross, E'er be esteem'd and priz'd above the Cross? The Cross of Christ, the Pow'r of God, whereby The holy Men of old did crucify The World and Self-hood; and thereby obtain A Crown of Glory, over all to reign, With Zion's King, in everlasting Peace, Where Joys abound, but Griefs and Sorrows cease, Ah! Shall that precious Seed, that hath been sown In Ground prepar'd, so soon be overgrown With Briars & Thorns? Or must the scorching Ray And parching Heat of Trials, cause Decay In that once green, tho' tender sprouting Plant? Hath it but little Root? Or doth it want Refreshing Show'rs, or early Dews? O see Why thus it seems to droop! Why should it be So long neglected? It may sprout again, If cherished with first and latter Rain, Which bount'ous Heaven will not too long deny, If Disobedience and Idolatry Do not provoke thereto: That gracious Hand, That planted it, can make a barren Land, More fertile for its Sake; and if he please, Can make a fruitful Land a Wilderness. Ah! Let our Breathings for each other be, That since we were from the wild Olive-Tree Remov'd and separated, that we might Be grafted in the Good, we may not slight The Hand that planted, nor the Root that bare us, Lest we decay; for can the Pruner spare us, That spar'd not natural Branches, if we be Unfruitful, but divide us from the Tree? But that we ever may, as we depend, Upon the Root, feel Life and Sap ascend Into our Branches; that pure Praise may spring, And Fruits of Righteousness to Zion's King.