GIDDINESS. From Herbert

O What a Thing is Man! from Rest How widely distant, and from Pow'r! Some twenty sev'ral Men at least He seems, he is, each sev'ral Hour.

Heav'n his sole Treasure now he loves; But let a tempting Thought creep in, His Coward Soul he soon reproves, That starts t' admit a pleasing Sin.

Eager he rushes now to War, Inglorious now dissolves in Ease: Wealth now engrosses all his Care; And lavish now he scorns Increase.

A stately Dome he raises now: But soon the Dome his Change shall feel; See, level lies its lofty Brow, Crush'd by the Whirlwind of his Will.

O what were Man, if his Attire Still vary'd with his varying Mind! If we his ev'ry new Desire Stamp'd on his alt'ring Form could find.

Could each one see his Neighbour's Heart, Brethren and Social made in vain, All would disband and range apart, And Man detest the Monster Man.

If GOD refuse our Heart to turn, Vain will his first Creation be: O make us daily! Or we spurn Our own Salvation, Lord, and Thee!