II.

PSALM Ixix. 5.

O Lord, thou knowest my foolishness, and my sins are not hid from thee.

S

EE'ST thou this fulsome ideot? in what measure

He seems transported with the antic pleasure

Of childish baubles? Canst thou but admire

The empty fulness of his vain desire ?

Canst thou conceive such poor delights as these
Can fill th' insatiate soul of man, or please
The fond aspect of his deluded eye?
Reader, such very fools art thou and I :
False puffs of honour; the deceitful streams
Of wealth; the idle, vain, and empty dreams
Of pleasure, are our trafic, and ensnare
Our souls, the threefold subject of our care;
We toil for trash, we barter solid joys
For airy trifles, sell our heav'n for toys:
We catch at barley-grains, whilst pearls stand by
Despis'd; such very fools art thou and I.

Aimd'st thou at honour? does not th' ideot shake it
In his left hand? fond man, step forth, and take it :
Or would'st thou wealth? see now the fool presents thee
With a full basket, if such wealth contents thee:
Wouldst thou take pleasure? If the fool unstride
His prancing stallion, thou mayst up and ride:
Fond man, such is the pleasure, wealth, and honour
The earth affords such fools as doat upon
Such is the game whereat earth's ideots fly;
Such ideots, ah! such fools art thou and I.

her:

Had

Had rebel man's fool-hardiness extended

No farther than himself, and there had ended,
It had been just; but thus enrag'd to fly
Upon th' eternal eyes of Majesty,

And drag the Son of Glory from the breast
Of his indulgent Father; to arrest

His great and sacred person; in disgrace
To spit and spawl upon his sun-bright face;
To taunt him with base terms, and, being bound,
To scourge his soft, his trembling sides; to wound
His head with thorns; his heart with human fears;
His hands with nails, and his pale flank with spears;
And then to paddle in the purer stream

Of his spilt blood, is more than most extreme;
Great builder of mankind, canst thou propound
All this to thy bright eyes, and not confound
Thy handy-work? O canst thou chuse but see,
That mad'st the eye? can aught be hid from thee?
Thou seest our persons, Lord, and not our guilt;
Thou seest not what thou may'st, but what thou wilt:
The hand that form'd us is inforc'd to be

A screen set up betwixt thy work and thee:
Look, look upon that hand, and thou shalt spy
An open wound, a thor'ghfare for thine eye;
Or if that wound be clos'd, that passage be
Deny'd between thy gracious eye and me,
Yet view the scar; that scar will countermand
Thy wrath: O read my fortune in thy hand.

S. CHRY

S. CHRYS. Hom. iv. Joan.

Fools seem to bound in wealth, when they want all things; they seem to enjoy happiness, when indeed they are only most miserable: neither do they understand that they are deluded by their fancy; till they be delivered from their folly.

S. GREG. in Mor.

By fo much the more are we inwardly foolish, by how much we strive to seem outwardly wise.

EPIG. 2.

Rebellious fool, what has thy folly done?
Controul'd thy God, and crucifi'd his Son!

How sweetly has the Lord of Life deceiv'd thee!

Thou shedd'st his blood, and that shed blood has sav'd

[thee.

PSALM