The Country Blunder!

Some lines which I have lately penn'd May prove a caution to a friend; Indeed as such they are intended, And to my friends are recommended.

But some, though caution'd night and morn, Will not take heed, howe'er we warn, But still to make their neighbours fun, Will obstinately blunder on.

A servant man in Glazedale glen, Did lately shoot a fine pea-hen: Taking her for a pheasant good, Lately stray'd from the neighb'ring wood.

But had he studied well the season, He might have found sufficient reason, To have convinc'd him, there and then, 'Twas neither pheasant, cock nor hen!

For is it common thus to see, Where there is neither bush nor tree, A pheasant pick, in open day?-- Much more upon the King's highway?

To view her well he did not fail, Her rosy comb, and fine long tail, And call'd her without more ado, A pheasant,--and a fine one too!

But beast, or bird, it makes no matter, He takes his gun and jingles at her; And ere that bird his mercy begs, She tumbles down, with broken legs!

He then did speedily run out, And twin'd her slender neck about, With pleasure sparkling in his eyes, Thinking he'd got a famous prize!

But one whose senses were awake, Did soon point out his sad mistake; His countenance did alter, when He found it was a fine pea-hen!

He thought his neighbours then would scoff, And poets soon would take him off; Too late he wish'd and strove in vain, To bring his hen to life again!

Ye poachers all, both young and old, If you don't think my pen too bold;-- Or may I say, kind gentlemen,-- Take warning by this same pea-hen!

Mind well what creatures you abuse; They all were given by God for use:-- Lest you should make your neighbours fun, Look well before you point your gun!

Or you by chance may shoot a horse;-- The other's bad,--this would be worse: Yet such a thing was lately done, And by a badly managed gun!

The thorns or thistles, stones or whins, May prick your legs, or break your shins; Yet those who'd buy instruction cheap, Should always "look before they leap!"

If still my counsel you disdain, I may hereafter write again; And should you not mind what you do, I may inform of some of you!

A SINNER SAVED BY GRACE.

Come, fellow sinner, lend an ear, And listen while I now declare What God hath done for me; His word hath broke my stony heart, My soul hath felt the piercing smart, Of guilt and misery!

Long time I went about distress'd, Nor day nor night could I find rest, Till I his voice did hear, Till I beheld Him on the Cross;-- My soul did then her burden lose, And all its slavish fear!

To Him who doth my foes controul, I look'd and He hath heal'd my soul, And all my sins forgiven: Hence may I turn my feeble sight To yonder realms of peace and light, And live and die for Heaven!

Oh hasten, sinners, to be wise; While Jesu's mercy loudly cries, Do you salvation take;-- But if you're stubborn to the last, Then be assur'd you will be cast, Into the burning lake!

Say you, "Where shall we find the Lord, According to his Holy Word, To heal our wounded mind? While some say here, and others there, We long to see the temple where We may salvation find!"

Wherever two or three are met, Whose faces Zion ward are set, He's promis'd there to be; O seek the Lord without delay, And cry for mercy night and day, Till you're from sin set free!

When you by grace are born again, Then publish to the sons of men, That you this path have trod; That others may for mercy cry, And saints may lift their voices high, And glorify their God!

THE PORTION OF THE JUST.

How blessed a thing Hallelujah to sing, When time shall with us be no more:-- At the Judge's right hand all the faithful shall stand, His goodness to see and adore!

In that heavenly place in the light of his face, They in mansions of glory shall dwell; No more the big tear on their face shall appear, For to sorrow they've bid a Farewell!

Above and below rich clusters do grow, Of the grapes of that Canaan so pure; His welcome so sweet makes the banquet complete, And they sing of His mercy secure!

Death vanquish'd, they sing, and spoil'd of his sting, Of Hell conquer'd by Christ from above; On the plains of delight with thousands in white, They shall walk and converse of His love!

But the wicked, alas, when their sentence shall pass, Shall at once into darkness be driven, Fierce pains to endure with spirits impure, Who were hurl'd from their places in heaven!

Oh, if thou dost crave above all things to have A seat with thy Saviour divine, No longer delay, nor rest night nor day, Till a scriptural title is thine!