On CLEMENS ALEXANDRINUS'S Description of a Perfect Christian

Here from afar the finish'd Height Of Holiness is seen: But O what heavy Tracts of Toil, What Deserts lie between?

Man for the Simple Life Divine What will it cost to break; Ere Pleasure soft and wily Pride No more within him speak?

What lingring Anguish must corrode The Root of Nature's Joy? What secret Shame and dire Defeats The Pride of Heart destroy?

Learn Thou the whole of Mortal State In Stilness to sustain; Nor sooth with false Delights of Earth Whom GOD has doom'd to Pain.

Thy Mind now Multitude of Thoughts, Now Stupor shall distress; The Venom of each latent Vice Wild Images impress.

Yet darkly fafe with GOD thy Soul His Arm still onward bears, Till thro' each Tempest on her Face A Peace beneath appears.

'Tis in that Peace we see and act By Instincts from above; With finer Taste of Wisdom fraught, And mystic Pow'rs of Love.

Yet ask not in mere Ease and Pomp Of Ghostly Gifts to shine: Till Death the Lownesses of Man, And decent Griefs are Thine.