We hold, and fay we prove from feripture plain,
That Chrift is God; the bold Socinian
From the fame fcripture urges he's but man.
Now what appeal can end th' important fuit ?
Both parts talk loudly, but the rule is mute.
Shall I fpeak plain. and in a nation free
Affume an honeft layman's liberty?
I think, according to my little fkill,
To my own mother-church fubmitting ftill,
That many have been fav'd, and many may,
Who never heard this question brought in play.
Th' unletter'd Chriftian, who believes in grofs,
Plods on to heaven; and ne'er is at a lofs:
For the ftreight-gate would be made freighter yet,
Were none admitted there but men of wit.
The few by nature form'd, with learning fraught,
Born to inftruct, as others to be taught,

Must study well the facred page; and sce
Which doctrine, this or that, does best agree
With the whole tenor of the work divine:
And plainlieft points to heaven's reveal'd defign:
Which expofition flows from genuine sense:
And which is forc'd by wit and eloquence.
Not that tradition's parts are useless here:
When general, old, difinterested, and clear :
That ancient Fathers thus expound the page,
Gives truth the reverend majefty of age:
Confirms its force by bideing every teft;
For beft authorities next rules, are beft.

And

And ftill the nearer to the fpring we go
More limpid, more unfoil'd, the waters flow.
Thus first traditions were a proof alone;

Could we be certain fuch they were, fo known :
But fince fome flaws in long descent may be,
They make not truth, but probability.
Ev'n Arius and Pelagius durft provoke
To what the centuries preceding spoke.
Such difference is there in an oft-told tale: '
But truth by its own finews will prevail.
Tradition written therefore more commends
Authority, than what from voice defcends :
And this, as perfect as its kind can be,
Rolls down to us the facred history:
Which, from the univerfal church receiv'd,
Is try'd, and after, for itself believ'd.

The partial Papists would infer from hence
Their church, in laft refort, fhould judge the sense.
But first they would assume with wonderous art,
Themselves to be the whole, who are but part
Of that vaft frame the church; yet grant they were
The handers-down, can they from thence infer
A right t'interpret ? or would they alone,

Who brought the present, claim it for their own?
The book's a common largess to mankind
Not more for them than every man defign'd:
The welcome news is in the letter found;
The carrier's not commiffion'd to expound.
It fpeaks itself, and what it does contain,
In all things needful to be known is plain.

In times o'ergrown with ruft and ignorance, A gainful trade their clergy did advance : When want of learning kept the laymen low,

And none but priests were authoriz'd to know:

When what small knowledge was, in them did dwell;
And he a God who could but read and spell;
Then mother church did mightily prevail :
She parcel'd out the Bible by retail :
But ftill expounded what the fold or gave;
To keep it in her power to damn and save:
Scripture was fcarce, and, as the market went,
Poor laymen took falvation on content;

As needy men take money good or bad :
God's word they had not, but the prieft's they had.
Yet whate'er falfe conveyances they made,

The lawyer ftill was certain to be paid.

In thofe dark times they learn'd their knack fo well,
That by long use they grew infallible:

At laft a knowing age began t'enquire

If they the book, or that did them inspire:

And making narrower fearch they found, though late,
That what they thought the priest's, was their estate :
Taught by the will produc'd, the written word,
How long they had been cheated on record.
Then every man who faw the title fair,
Claim'd a child's part, and put in for a share :
Confulted foberly his private good;

And fav'd himself as cheap as e'er he could.
'Tis true, my friend, and far be flattery hence,
This good had full as bad a confequence :

VOL. I.

S

The

The book thus put in every vulgar hand,
Which each prefum'd he best could understand,
The common rule was made the common prey;
And at the mercy of the rabble lay.

The tender page with horny fifts was gall'd;
And he was gifted most that loudest baul'd :
The spirit gave the doctoral degree :

And every member of a company

Was of his trade, and of the Bible free.

Plain truths enough for needful use they found;
But men would still be itching to expound :
Each was ambitious of th' obfcureft place,
No measure ta'en from knowledge, all from grace.
Study and pains were now no more their care;
Texts were explain'd by fasting and by prayer :
This was the fruit the private spirit brought;
Occafion'd by great zeal and little thought.
While crouds unlearn'd, with rude devotion warm,
About the facred viands buz and fwarm.
The fly-blown text creates a crawling brood;
And turns to maggots what was meant for food.
A thousand daily fects rife up and die;
A thousand more the perifh'd race fupply:
So all we make of heaven's discover'd will,
Is not to have it, or to ufe it ill.

The danger's much the fame; on feveral fhelves
If others wreck us, or we wreck ourselves.

What then remains, but, waving each extreme,
The tides of ignorance and pride to stem ?

}

Neither fo rich a treasure to forego;

Nor proudly feek beyond our power to know:
Faith is not built on difquifitions vain ;

The things we must believe are few and plain :
But, fince men will believe more than they need,
And every man will make himself a creed,
In doubtful questions 'tis the safest way
To learn what unsuspected ancients say:
For 'tis not likely we should higher foar

In fearch of heaven, than all the church before:
Nor can we be deceiv'd, unless we fee
The scripture and the fathers disagree.
If after all they stand suspected still,
For no man's faith depends upon his will;
'Tis some relief, that points not clearly known
Without much hazard may be let alone :
And, after hearing what our church can say,
If still our reafon runs another way,

That private reason 'tis more just to curb,
Than by disputes the public peace disturb,
For points obfcure are of finall ufe to learn:
But common quiet is mankind's concern.

Thus have I made my own opinions clear: Yet neither praise expect, nor cenfure fear : And this unpolish'd rugged verse I chofe; As fitteft for difcourfe, and nearest profe: For while from facred truth I do not fwerve, Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will serve.