BAXTER'S POEMS. When thy own saving·change is to begin And thou hast yet no pardon of thy sin !. , When all the while thou art a son of wrath, Who to eternal life no title bath: When in thy flow'ring studies thou must die, And be undone to all eternity ? Who would .be playing at a childish ga1pe, While his own house is in a burning flame ? What if I knew whether the earth or sun So swift and unperceived a course doth run? Or knew' the course and order of the spheres? Or were best skill'd in numbering past ·years? · Knew all the houses of the star!·y sky ? And things that are for common wits too high ? What if I knew all these never so well? And knew not how to 'scape the flames of hell? What gain or pleasure would my knowledge be, If I the face of God must never see ? Or what if I could fool away my time, In smooth and well-composed idle rhyme? Or dreaming lovers' fancies could rehearse, In .the most lofty and adomed verse ? While my unholy soul, in fleshly thrall Should be lamenting its own funeral? . But when my soul had fix'd on God her end, Then all my studies unto him did tend. , TlH;y all w~re order'd in due place and season, Guided by faith, allowed by sound reason : Thou taught'st me first the only needful thing ; And all my studies harp'd stillon that string: Judging the greatest kuowledge to be vain, Which tendeth not to the immortal gain. 27
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