Classic Poem

High above the world's pursuit,
Far beyond the fool's conceit,
Where the cherub plays her lute,
Dwells the man of God complete.

Greatness here severely shunn'd,
Falls in heav'n to virtue's share,
And the poor man finds a fund
Of eternal treasures there.

To the Lord is not access
But by magnitude above,
And exalted strength must bless
In yon upper flights of love.

Peter from repentance rose
To the magnitude requir'd,
First of all his master chose
In celestial pomp attir'd.

But he is a stranger still
To the Roman frauds and fees;
He nor sold to vice her will,
Nor to Mammon left his keys.

Hence the practice, prais'd at Rome,
Christian principle confounds—
What! at eminence presume,
And not skill to know the grounds?

What! can pride and kingly pow'r,
With the soldier kept in pay,
And a crown like Babel's tow'r,
Suit the sons of YEA and NAY?

YEA is Christ avouch'd by truth,
Sharing hardship with her prince,
Feed my lambs—instruct the youth—
Feed my sheep—the old convince.

NAY is quit thy house and land,
And all carnal things abjure;
NAY is neither rich nor grand,
But refuses for the poor.

Peter, when with Christ he went,
Made this excellence his plea—
‘Here we are, and rest content,
‘Quitting all, and tending thee.’

Wherefore he was worthy deem'd
On the mountain-top to tread,
While surpassing glories beam'd
On his master's hallow'd head.

Wherefore too this day we hold
As of honourable note,
We of Christ's peculiar fold,
That protest against the goat.

Wheresoe'er we are dispers'd,
In the ocean, or ashore,
Still the service is rehears'd,
Still we worship and adore.

Thanks to God we have a form
Of sound words aboard the ship,
In the calm, or in the storm,
To exalt him heart and lip.

There Jehovah's dove may perch
On the topmast as she swims—
Ev'ry vessel is a church
Meet for praise, for pray'r, and hymns.