A LETTER
TO A FRIEND IN A GREAT TOWN.
The following will not appear well connected at the beginning, a number of verses being omitted: as they cannot concern any one but he to whom they were originally addressed, what may be more generally useful are here inserted.
—— Ever dear, with willing ear
I beg you to attend,—
I would advise you to be wise,
O listen to a friend.
Forgive a zeal that seeks your weal,
No motive else have I;
For that intent these lines are sent,
Not whim to gratify.
I know you’re plac’d ’midst follies vast,
’Midst vice in every shape,
Where pleasure cries, with siren voice,
And few her wiles escape.
Let others riot—keep you all quiet,
Serene and pure within;
Your Maker fear—his laws revere—
Indulge no darling sin.
One day in seven, devote to heaven,
God’s house of prayer seek;
Be what’s there said in memory laid,
For practice through the week.
In dealing just, still true to trust,
Whatever others do,
Be truth sincere, and honour fair,
The character of you.
Owe to no man.—What good you can
With friendly zeal perform,—
Let hasty ire your breast ne’er fire,
Though wrong’d, still passion’s storm.
Judicious be in your choice;
A real friend is rare;
Be kind to all, but try them well,
Your confidence who share.
Vain empty pride, high scornful ey’d,
Ne’er stoop to flatter it;
But worth, where seen, in rich or mean,
Respect and imitate.
Ne’er be so weak, as vaunting make
Proud self your darling song;
Let others praise, if there is cause,
But never one’s own tongue.
Vain boasting must still raise disgust,
Where it applause expects;
But solid sense learns diffidence,
By seeing its own defects.
Be by each fault in others taught,
T’ avoid the same through life;
But to their hurt such ne’er report,
Thus keeping clear of strife.
No word obscene, or oath profane,
Be by your lips express’d,
Nor even your ear approving hear,
But from your soul detest.
In reason’s scale weigh matters well,
When doubtful how to act;
But ne’er in cause of goodness pause,
Nor virtuous motions check.
All ill resist, do not assist
In any guilty scheme,
But count all foes who would propose
To sully so your fame.
The gaming board shun as a sword,
That would assail your breast;
Haunts of the rude, like death elude,
And drunkards’ bowl unblest.
In harmless joy your days employ,
I would not have them dull;
To some wise use, each spare hour chuse,
On pleasures rational.
Lightsome as day with spirits gay,
And sprightly temper even;
Join jocund mirth, with men of worth,
But ne’er to excess driven.
Good books at home, read in your room,
When business will permit;
These friends each night will bring delight,
Pursu’d by no regret.
Your pillow prest, then sweetest rest
Will every sense absorb;
Such as by guilt, can ne’er be felt,
Which vexing dreams disturb.
A heart at ease, in virtue’s ways,
Its portion here is peace;
Be that your aim—a worthier gem
Than George’s crown doth grace.
Fresh wholesome air, oft walk to share;
From noise and nonsense steal;
Attend to health, without which, wealth
Will be of small avail.
If fortune smile, O let meanwhile,
A giving God be blest;
Though troubles low’r, yet meek adore,
And in your Maker trust.
What Providence doth wise dispense,
Should by his friends be view’d,
All sent in love, their hearts to prove,
And working for their good.
In every case, then humbly place,
On high your confidence;
Use means, ’tis true, but grateful view,
And own all help from thence.
Frail erring man, do all he can,
Can merit make no plea;
We at God’s hand can nought command,
His favours all are free.
Free grace and love, Oh! these improve,
While in this lower clime,
For all must end, as here we spend,
Use or abuse our time.
One thing ’bove all, one day we shall
Find to be needful most;
And time mis-spent, we may repent,
Our precious moments lost.
Time pass’d, again we never can
With pray’rs nor tears recall;
And e’er perhaps few days elapse,
We low in dust may fall.
No wisdom then we can attain,
Or knowledge in the tomb;
Each day we live doth warning give,
That change may shortly come.
Death at our side makes havock wide,
Acquaintance not a few,
Some young and gay are call’d away,
Since I last spoke with you.
Let us regard, and be prepar’d,
More wean’d from worldly toys,
Which nought can give, but us deceive
With false and fleeting joys.
The immortal mind is sure design’d
To rise ’bove trifles here,
Still soaring higher, it should aspire
To heaven, its native sphere.
Below the skies, nought can suffice,
The soul still feels a void;
Its lov’d abode is with its God,
His presence full enjoy’d.
Look on this state so short of date,
As trial for the next;
Thro’ a Saviour’s name make heaven your claim,
Be there your treasure fix’d.
Tho’ we are weak, and wisdom lack,
To our best interest blind;
Aid, wisdom, light, if sought aright,
We graciously shall find.
May heaven direct, and ne’er forsake,
But bless my youthful friend;
To life give charms, in death’s alarms—
Peace, Hope, and Triumph send.