BAXTER'S POEMS . But of all beast:s he man-'Jeast is the worst , To others, and himself, the cruelest foe, And, turning serpent, doth become accurs'd~ A scourge to others, his own endless woe . As holiness fits souls for endless bliss, And here hath its beginning and foretaste; So sin the plague of un-mann'd nature is, And turns man-beast to devil at the last. If all men made themselves, and are their own , And have no· ruler but self-will and sense; If ,man be nothing else but flesh and bone, · 16 i Can live here still, and say, 1 'll not go hence ; If man can conquer God, and him dethrone, Kill Christ again, and shut up Paradise; Then saints are fools, and worldly men alone, Choosing a shadow and despair, are wise . But sure if man be only mortal flesh, A squib, a bubble, a vile earthly clod, He never will have pow'r, whate'er he wish, To save himself, by overcoming God. But Heav'n is quite above malignant powers, Our peace and safety's far above their reach ; Christ's kingdom is not of this world, nor ours , It's unseen blessedness which he did preach.. There holy spirits free from sin and fear, From cruel tyrants, devils, death, and Hell ; The sweet celestial melody still hear, In perfect light and love tog~ther dwell . There's no dark error, no perplexing doubt ,. No selfish envy, strife, or discontent ;.