Second Dialogue. Sunday Morning

“Whither go you, so clean and well clad, Thomas Brown? For your jacket’s a new one, I see.” Sir, I go, with good will, to the church on the hill, To thank God for his goodness to me.

“To hear this, it does my heart good, Thomas Brown, And I hope you’ll continue to go.” This, Sir, I intend; and as you are my friend, You’ll be pleased something further to know.

When, after our converse, I first went to church, I remember’d the days of my folly, When I heard them at prayer, I thought God must be there, And the place appear’d solemn and holy.

The prayers being over, then sweetly they sung; I felt glad that I had gone in; The sermon came next, and this was the text, “That death is the wages of sin.”

The minister told us, that all wicked men Who the paths of iniquity trod, Would be turn’d into hell, in darkness to dwell, And all people forgetting their God.

I listen’d awhile, and felt struck with fear, A cloud seem’d to hang over my head, A tear stood in my eye, and I could not tell why, But my heart was as heavy as lead.

On the morrow I spake of what I had heard, While my shopmates were laughing and lazy, And I should have said more, but they set up a roar, And cried out, “Tom Brown is gone crazy!”

Then I laugh’d and I sung with the best of them all, And tried to forget what had pass’d; But I thought in my mind, shall I good in this find, If I lose my own soul at the last?

So again the next Sunday I went to the church, Though my shopmates all join’d to upbraid; For I thought why should I, fear a man that will die, More than Him by whom all things were made?

The minister spake so loud and so plain That the poorest might well understand; “Repent ye,” said he, and seem’d pointing at me, “For the kingdom of God is at hand.”

I felt myself vile as he told me my sins; That he knew them I could not well doubt it; For it came in my head, what to you I had said, And I thought you had told all about it.

When I heard what my Saviour had suffer’d, I wept; How he groan’d and he died on the tree; But O, the blest hour! for the word came with power, And I knew that he suffer’d for me.

Thus God has dealt with me, and thus has been pleased His great goodness and grace to impart; It was terror and dread, that first bowed down my head, But ’twas mercy that melted my heart.

Every week from my wages a sixpence I spare, A Bible to buy, for I need it; And when time I can spare, to a friend I repair, Who has promised to teach me to read it.

And you, Sir, have been a most kind friend to me: This I own, though I cannot repay; But yet there is one, who this kindness will own At the last and the great judgment day.

For myself, as becomes a poor, weak, sinful man, I will pray for support from on high; To walk in God’s ways, my Saviour to praise, And to trust in his grace till I die.

And though poor, and unwise in the ways of the world, I believe in the truth of God’s word, That true riches are they, which will not pass away, And true wisdom, the fear of the Lord.