Would I describe a preacher,
. . . .
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
read more

Would I describe a preacher,
. . . .
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture; much impress'd
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of grace to guilty men.

Hear how he clears the points o' Faith
Wi' rattling an' thumpin'!
Now meekly calm, now wild read more

Hear how he clears the points o' Faith
Wi' rattling an' thumpin'!
Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath,
He's stampin', and he's jumpin'!

Do as we say, and not as we do.
[Lat., Faites ce que nous disons, et ne faites pas read more

Do as we say, and not as we do.
[Lat., Faites ce que nous disons, et ne faites pas ce que nous
faisons.]

The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again, pronounce a text,
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The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again, pronounce a text,
Cry hem; and reading what they never wrote
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,
And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!

The proud he tam'd, the penitent he cheer'd:
Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd.
His preaching read more

The proud he tam'd, the penitent he cheer'd:
Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd.
His preaching much, but more his practice wrought;
(A living sermon of the truths he taught:)
For this by rules severe his life he squar'd:
That all might see the doctrines which they heard.

I met a preacher there I knew, and said,
Ill and overworked, how fare you in this scene?
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I met a preacher there I knew, and said,
Ill and overworked, how fare you in this scene?
Bravely! said he; for I of late have been
Much cheered with thoughts of Christ, the living bread.

A kick that scarce would move a horse,
May kill a sound divine.

A kick that scarce would move a horse,
May kill a sound divine.

Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant
Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn
Loud as the read more

Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant
Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn
Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt,
Not practise!

They shall knaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam
whar the lion roareth and the Wang read more

They shall knaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam
whar the lion roareth and the Wang Doodle mourneth for its first
born--ah!