Classic Poem

Shall Bloud and Ruine find a day
To feast and play?
Shall we go on in rage, and still
Rejoyce when Brothers Brothers kill?
Shall we each year the growing State
Of our great Senate celebrate?
Shall annual Rights and heightned mirth
Frolick each petty Princes Birth?
And shall the Lord of Life's blest day
Be thrown away?

Dear Day! thy memory to me
Shall precious be.
Since God at first his stamp did set,
And man till now continued it,
I'le shew my joy and thanks: Suppose
That very day no Mortal knows,
Yet since just power does one command,
That one to me as well shall stand,
As leaving AEgypt ; which in one,
Yet was not done.

No day since the Creation yet
Was grac'd like it:
Crouded with miracles it came
Into the world: the Heavens proclaim
By new created light, the Thing;
While th'Hosts of God descend and sing,
The joy to Shepherds th'Angel brings,
And a bright Star does summon Kings.
To all mankind glad tydings flyes,
To th'weak and wise.

And where the Prince does not forbid,
The Subject's ty'd
T'obey him in his Vice-Roy: So
Where God my Father sayes not No,
There my blest Mother, his chaste Spouse,
The Church, as Mistress, rules the House.
No Steward of a private Farme
Shall there my just Obedience charme.
Jews may reject the day, but I
Will Christian dye.