106 BAXTER'i!l POEMS. You have the reconciling light, Who are past faith, and live by sight: No wonder then if you are one, When peace from earth is almost gone : We crowd about a little spark, Learnedly striving in the dark ! Never so bold as when most ·blind; Run fastest when the truth's behind. No heresies with you are sown; There's not a truth but all will own: A mixture we get here by rote; And error keeps the major vote: There pride and facti'on cannot enter; There's no division in the centre. The saints there play not Satan's part; 'I'hey use not any carnal art, Their righteous brethren to defame, And by untruths to blot their name. There you are comely, and not black: Each one hath all, yet none do lack. What sin or smart can you befal, Where self's put off, and God is all? Look up and see, now Vines is gone; Are not the stars the more by one ? No: but one fewer in our.sight; For we have fortified his light. And such an one, as all do miss, Save those whose pleasm;e darkness is. And who can number stars above ; When saints so fast to Heav'n remove? If but three such in all our times' As Usher, Gataker, and Vines,
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy OTcyMjk=