Classic Poem

I know that if thou please thou canst provide
A place for her, securely to abide,
Amid the Westerne wildernesse (and where
Scarce glimmerings of thy favours yet appeare)
By moulding out the Heathen Salvages
To be a people far surpassing these.
This, Lord, thou couldst effect; and make of them
Thy people, whom these most of all contemne.
And, since this Nation, in their wealthy peace,
Have sent out Colonies, but to encrease
Their private gaine: since they faire showes have made
Of publishing thy Gospell, when the Trade
For cursed lucre (as the Times reveale)
Was chiefest founder of their fained zeale:
Since they in that, and other things, pretend
Religion, when tis farthest from their end:
Thou didst but right, if thou shouldst force their seed
To settle on some barbarous Coast for need;
And, there, thy Truth, to those, with sorrow preach,
Whom they neglected, in their weale, to teach.
But, since it were no more for thee to doe,
This Land to save, and call another too,
Then one such worke to compasse; why I pray
Shouldst thou remove their Candlestick away?
Why maist not Thou, who all compassion art
Thy people, rather, by thy pow'r convert,
Then quite destroy them? wherefore shouldst thou not
Their errors forth of thy remembrance blot,
As heretofore? And alwayes praised be
For that abundant Love, which is in thee?