Classic Poem

Oh ! what a busy World is here?
Ah! busy, what, in sin?
Why sure it is the Sabbath Eve,
We now are Walking in.

Is this the time that lew'd Men catch
Young Virgin's to decoy;
And what they do admire most,
They Labour to destroy.

Is this to act like Men of Sense?
But Oh! you'll often find,
That those who are such Slaves to lust,
Are quite to reason blind.

Is this the place where Coquets walk,
As hunting for their Prey?
And so each Sex delight in what
Each other will betray.

And thus does Man the Woman blame,
So did our Father first;
But as both Eve and Adam sinn'd
So both for Sin were curst.

The Ground was curst to for Man's sake,
And he must toil for Bread;
And, as the Woman fell the first,
So Man must be her Head.

And would you lead us into Sin,
Who 're giv'n for our guide?
And, tho' you do betray your trust,
Yet, 'tis your boast and pride.

Oh! where shall then poor Women go?
Men would make them forlorn;
They may unto a Saviour fly—
He was of Woman born.

So thus the Woman may rejoice,
That Jesus Christ does bless,
He'll safely guide those that him love
All thro' this Wilderness.

Oh! could I here view every Heart,
What difference should I find,
Of Cares and Sorrows that perplex,
And feed upon the Mind!

Diseas'd, no doubt, some walking here,
To seek from Air relief,
While others swiftly fly to Drink,
And drown in Wine their Grief.

But have not some to Worship been,
Like Bees return'd from Flowers,
Laden with Gospel's-Honey Sweets,
As Food for future hours?

Oh! may I then industr'ous be
On ev'ry Sabbath Day;
And have great store of Gospel Sweets,
Before me ever lay.

Ye Young and Gay, that walk the Park,
Or range the World around;
You never will have happiness
Unless these Sweets are found.

They prove a Cure for every Wound,
A Cordial for each fear;
Sure not the Balm of Gilead
Was purchas'd half so dear.

For these the Saviour gave his Life,
His Death did for them pay;
And now his Bounty is so great
He gives them free away.

I find that he has made his Will;
Why don't you look and see,
What are those Legacies of Love
He may have left for thee?