172 BAXTER'S POEMS. Time posteth, oh how fast! Unwelcome death makes haste, None can call back what's past, . Judgment delays not: Though God bring in the light, Sinners awake not, Because Hell's out of sight, They sin forsake not. Man walks in a,vain shew, They know, yet -will not know; Sit still when they should go ; But run for shadows : While they migh~ taste and' know The living streams that flow, And crop the flowers that grow, In Christ's sweet meadows. Life's better slept away, Than as they use it; In sin and drunken play, Vain men abuse it. Malignant world, adieu ! Where no foul vice is new, Only to Satan true, God still offeqded : Though taught and wam'd by God, And his chastising rod, Keeps still the way that's broad, Never amended. Baptismal vows some make, But ne'er perform them; · If angels from Heaven spak~, 'T would not reform them.
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