The hermit. A poem

The Hermit A POEM.

[1]

Now taught by this, confeſs th' Almighty juſt,

And where thou can't unravel, learn to truſt.

FAR in a Wild, remote from publick view,

From Youth to Age, a rev'rend Hermit grew,

The Moſs his Bed, the Cave his humble Cell,

His Food the Fruits, his Drink the Chryſtal Well:

Unknown to Man, with God he paſs'd the Days,

Pray'r all his Bus'neſs, all his Pleaſure Praiſe.

A life ſo ſacred, ſuch ſerene Repoſe

Seem'd Heaven itſelf; till one Suggeſtion roſe;

That Vice ſhould triumph, Virtue Vice obey,

Hence ſprung ſome Doubts of Providence's Sway;

His Hopes no more a certain Proſpect boaſt,

And all the Tenor of his Soul is loſt:

To clear this Doubt, to know the World by Sight,

To find if Books or Swains report it right;

He with the Sun a riſing Journey went,

Sedate to think and watching each Event.

The Morn was waſted in the Pathleſs Graſs,

And long and loneſome was the Wild to paſs;

But when the ſouthern Sun had warm'd the Day

A Youth came poſting o'er a croſſing Way.

His rayment decent, his complexion fair,

And ſoft in graceful Ringlets wav'd his Hair,

Then near approaching, Father, Hail! he cry'd,

And Hail, my ſon, the rev'rend Sire reply'd.

Words followed Words, from Queſtions Anſwers flow'd

And Talk of various kind deceiv'd the Road.

Till each with other pleas'd and loth to part,

While in their Age they differ, join in Heart,

Thus ſtands an aged Elm in Ivy bound;

Thus youthful Ivy claſps an Elm around.

Now ſunk the Sun, the cloſing Hour of Day

Came onward mantled o'er with Sober gray,

Nature in Silence bid the World repoſe,

When near the Road a ſtately Palace roſe,

It chanc'd the generous Maſter of the Dome

Still made his Houſe the wand'ring Strangers Home

Yet ſtill the Kindneſs, from a thirſt of Praiſe

Prov'd the vain flouriſh of expenſive Eaſe.

The Pair arrive: The liv'ry'd Servants wait,

Their Lord receives them at the pompous Gate

The Table groans with coſtly Piles of Food,

And all is more than hoſpitable good.

[2]Then led to reſt, the Day's long Toil they drown

Deep ſunk in ſleep and Silk and Heaps of Down.

At length 'tis Morn; and at the Dawn of Day

Along the wide Canals the Zephyrs play,

Up riſe the Gueſts obedient to the call,

An early Banquet deck't the ſplendid Hall.

Rich luſcious Wine a golden Veſſel grac'd

Which the kind Maſter forc'd the Gueſts to taſte;

Then pleaſ'd and thankful, from the Porch they go

And, but the Landlord, none had cauſe of Woe:

His Cup was vaniſh'd, for in ſecret Guiſe

The younger Gueſt purloin'd the glittering Prize.

As one who ſpies a Serpent in his Way

Gliſt'ning and baſking in the ſummers Ray,

Diſorder'd ſtops, to ſhun the Danger near,

Then walks with Faintneſs on, and looks with Fear

So ſeem'd the Sire when far upon the Road

The ſhining ſpoil his wiley Partner ſhow'd;

He ſtopp'd with Silence, walk'd with trembling Heart,

And much he wiſh'd but durſt not aſk to part,

Murmuring he lifts his Eyes and thinks it hard

That generous Actions meet a baſe Reward.

While thus they paſs the Sun his Glory ſhrouds

The changing Skies hang out their Sable Clouds,

A Sound in Air preſag'd approaching Rain

And Beaſts to Covert ſcud a-croſs the Plain:

Warn'd by the Signs the wand'ring Pair retreat

To ſeek for Shelter at a neighbouring Seat;

'Twas built with Turrets on a riſing Ground,

And ſtrong and large and unimprov'd around,

Its Owner's Temper, timorous and ſevere

Unkind and griping caus'd a Deſart there.

As near the Miſer's heavy Doors they drew

Fierce riſing Guſts with ſudden Fury blew,

The nimble Light'ning mix'd with Showers began

And o'er their Heads loud rolling Thunder ran.

Here long they knock', but knock or call in vain,

Driv'n by the Wind and batter'd by the Rain;

At length ſome Pity warm'd the Maſter's Breaſt

'Twas then his Threſhold firſt receiv'd a Gueſt,

Slow creaking turns the Door with jealous Care

And half he welcomes in the ſhivering Pair;

One frugal Faggot lights the naked Walls

And Natur's Fervor thro' their Limbs recalls,

Bread of the coarſeſt Sort with eager Wine

Each hardly granted, ſerv'd them both to dine:

And when the Tempeſt firſt appear'd to ceaſe

A ready Warning bid them part in Peace▪

[3]With ſtill Remark the pond'ring Hermit view'd,

In one ſo rich, a Life ſo poor and rude,

And why ſhould ſuch, within himſelf he cry'd,

Lock the loſt Wealth, a Thouſand want beſide.

But what new Marks of Wonder ſoon took place

In every ſettling Feature of his Face

When from his Veſt the young Companion bore

That Cup the gen'rous Landlord own'd before,

And paid profuſely with the precious Bowl.

The ſtinted Kindneſs of this churliſh Soul.

But now the Clouds in airy Tumult fly,

The Sun emerging ope's an azure Sky,

A freſher green the ſmelling Leaves diſplay,

And glitt'ring as they tremble cheer the Day,

The Weather courts them from the Poor retreat,

And the glad Maſter bolts the wary Gate.

While hence they walk, the Pilgrim's Boſom wrought,

With all the Travel of uncertain Thought,

His Partner's Acts without their Cauſe appear,

'Twas there a Vice, and ſeemed a Madneſs here;

Deteſting that, and pitying this, he goes

Loſt and confounded with the various Shows.

Now Night's dim Shades involve the azure Sky,

Again they ſearch and find a Lodging nigh.

The Soil improv'd around the Manſion neat,

And neither poorly low nor idly great,

It ſeem'd to ſpeak its Maſter's turn of Mind,

Content, and not for Praiſe, but Virtue kind;

Hither the Walkers turn with weary Feet,

Then bleſs the Manſion and the Maſter greet,

Their Greeting fair beſtow'd with modeſt Guiſe,

The courteous Maſter hears and thus replies;

Without a vain, without a grudging Heart

To him who gives us all, I yield a Part,

From Him you come, for Him accept it here

A frank and ſober more than coſtly Cheer.

He ſpoke, and bid the welcome Table ſpread.

Then talk'd of Virtue till the Time of Bed;

When the grave Houſhold round his Hall repair,

Warn'd by a Bell, and cloſe the Hours with Prayer,

At length the World renew'd by calm Repoſe,

Was ſtrong for Toil; the dappled Morn aroſe.

Before the Pilgrims part, the Younger crept

Near the clos'd Cradle, where an Infant ſlept,

And writh'd his Neck, the Landlords little Pride

O ſtrange Return! grew black and gaſped, and dy'd,

Horror of Horrors! What his only Son?

How look'd our Hermit when the Fact was done?

[4]Not Hell, tho' Hell's black Jaws in ſunder Part,

And breathe blue Fire, could more aſſault his Heart,

Confus'd and ſtruck with Silence at the Deed,

He flies, but trembling fails to fly with ſpeed;

His Steps the Youth purſues, the Country lay

Perplex'd with Roads, a Servant ſhow'd the Way;

A River croſs'd the Path, the Paſſage o'er

Was nice to find, the Servant trod before;

Long Arms of Oaks an open Bridge ſupply'd,

And deep the Waves beneath them bending Glide.

The Youth who ſeem'd to watch a time to Sin,

Approach'd the careleſs Guide and thruſt him in:

Plunging he falls, and riſing lifts his Head,

Then flaſhing turns and ſinks among the Dead.

Wild ſparkling Rage inflames the Fathers Eyes

He burſts the Bands of Fear and madly cries,

Deteſted Wretch—But ſcarce his Speech began

When the ſtrange Partner ſeem'd no longer Man;

His youthful Face grew more ſerenely ſweet,

His Robe turn'd white and flow'd upon his Feet

Fair Rounds of radiant Points inveſt his Hair,

Celeſtial Odours breath'd thro' purple Air;

The Form Etherial burſts upon his Sight

And moves in all the Majeſty of Light:

Tho' loud at firſt the Pilgrim's Paſſion grew,

Sudden he gaz'd and wiſt not what to do.

Surprize in ſecret Chains his Words ſuſpends

And in a Calm his ſettling Temper ends.

But Silence here the beauteous Angel broke

The Voice of Muſick raviſh'd as he ſpoke,

Thy Prayer, thy Praiſe, thy Life to Vice unknown

In ſweet Memorial riſe before the Throne,

Theſe Charms Succeſs in our bright Region find

And force an Angel down to calm thy Mind;

For this commiſſion'd I forſook the Sky,

Nay ceaſe to kneel—Thy Fellow-Servant I;

Then know the Truth of Government Divine,

And let theſe Scruples be no longer thine;

The Maker juſtly claims that World he made,

In this the Right of Providence is laid;

Its ſacred Majeſty thro' all depends

On uſing ſecond Means to Work his Ends,

Tis thus withdrawn in State from human Eye

The Power exerts his Attributes on high;

Your Actions uſes, nor controuls your Will

And bids the doubting Sons of Men be ſtill:

What ſtrange Events can ſtrike with more Surpriſe

Than thoſe which lately ſtruck thy wandering Eyes?

[5]Yet taught by theſe confeſs th' Almighty juſt

And where thou can't unriddle, learn to truſt,

The great Vain Man who far'd on coſtly Food,

Whoſe Life was too luxurious to be good,

Who made his Ivory Stands with Goblets ſhine,

And forc'd his Gueſts to morning Draughts of Wine,

Has with the Cup, the graceleſs Cuſtom loſt,

And ſtill he welcoms, but with leſs of Coſt.

The mean ſuſpicious Wretch whoſe bolted Door

Ne'er mov'd in Duty to the wandering Poor,

With him I left the Cup, to teach his Mind,

That Heaven can bleſs, if Mortals will be kind,

Conſcious of wanting worth he views the Bowl,

And feels Compaſſion touch his grateful Soul;

Thus Artiſts melt the ſullen Oar of Lead,

With heaping Coals of Fire upon its Head,

In the kind Warmth the Metal learns to glow,

And looſe from Droſs the Silver runs below.

Long had our pious Friend in Virtue trod,

But now this Child half wean'd his Heart from God,

Child of his Age, for him he liv'd in Pain,

And meaſur'd back his Steps to Earth again:

To great Exceſses had his Dotage run?

But God to ſave the Father, took the Son,

To all, but thee, in Fits he ſeem'd to go,

And 'twas my Miniſtry to deal the Blow.

The poor, fond Parent humbled in the Duſt,

Now owns, in Tears, the Puniſhment is juſt.

But how had all his Fortune felt a Wreck

Had that falſe Servant ſped in Safety back?

This Night his treaſured Heaps he meant to ſteal,

And what a Fund of Charity would fail?

Thus Heaven inſtructs thy Mind; this Tryal o'er

Depart in Peace, reſign and ſin no more.

On ſounding Pinions here the Youth withdrew,

The Sage ſtood wond'ring as the Seraph flew;

Thus look't Eliſha when to mount on high

His Maſter took the Chariot of the Sky,

The fiery Pomp aſcending left the View,

The Prophet gaz'd and wiſh'd to follow too.

The Hermit, bending, here a Prayer begun,

"Lord as in Heaven on Earth thy Will be done;

Then gladly turning ſought his ancient Place

And paſs'd a Life of Piety and Peace.

[6]

THE Inſpiration of God, and the clear Information of the Holy Scriptures aſſures us, that God reſerves his choiceſt Secrets for the pureſt Minds, and that its uncleaneſs of Spirit, not dif⯑ference of Method in ſeeking after God, that ſeparates us from him; true Holineſs being the only ſafe Entrance into divine Know⯑ledge. The Apoſtle Peter declares Act. 10, 34, That he perceived of a Truth that God is no reſpecter of Perſons: But in every Nation, he that feareth him, and worketh Righteouſneſs is accepted with him. And the Apoſtle Paul alſo tells the Galatians Chap. 6, 15, That in Chriſt Jeſus neither Circumciſſion availeth any Thing, nor Uncircumciſſion but a new Creature. Notwithſtanding the Clearneſs of theſe and many more ſuch Doctrines contained in the Scriptures, Selfiſhneſs and Partia⯑lity, thoſe inhuman and baſe Qualities have been ſuffered to prevail even amongſt ſuch, as are eſteemed the moſt pious in the ſeveral Sects and Parties of the Chriſtian Church: They have raiſed and ſtill raiſe in every Communion, a ſelfiſh partial Orthodoxy, which conſiſts in courageouſly defending all its Opinions and Practices, and condemning the Doctrines and Practices of others; and thus every one is train'd up in Defence of their own Church, their own Truth, their own Opinion; And he often is judged to have the moſt Merit, and the moſt Honour, who likes every Thing, and de⯑fends every Thing amongſt themſelves, and leaves nothing uncen⯑ſured in thoſe that are of a different Communion. Now how can Truth, Goodneſs and Religion be more ſtruck at, than by ſuch De⯑fenders of it? If you ask why the great Biſhop of Meaux wrote ſo many learned Books againſt all Parts of the Reformation, it is be⯑cauſe he was born in France, Had he been born in England, had he been bred at Oxford or Cambridge, he might have rivall'd our great Biſhop Stilling fleet, and would have wrote as many learn'd Folio's againſt the Church of Rome, as he has done. And yet I will venture to ſay, that if each Church could produce but one Man a Piece, that had the Piety of an Apoſtle, and the impartial Love of the firſt Chriſtians, they would not want half a Sheet of Paper to hold their Articles of Union, nor be half an Hour before they were of one Reli⯑gion. If we loved Truth as ſuch; if we ſought it for its own ſake; if we loved our neighbours as our ſelves; if we deſir'd nothing by our Religion but to be acceptable to God; if we equally deſir'd the Sal⯑vation of all Men; if we were afraid of Error only becauſe of its hurtful Nature to us, and our Brethren of other Communions, then nothing of this Spirit could have any Place in us. For God is Love, and they which dwell in God, they dwell in Love, 1 John 4, 16. That uni⯑verſal Love which gives the whole Strength of the Heart to God, and which makes us love every Man as we love ourſelves, is the nobleſt, the moſt divine, and God-like State of the Soul, and is the utmoſt Perfection to which the moſt perfect Religion can raiſe us, and no Religion does any Man any good, but ſo far, as it brings this perfect Love with it. Perfection can no where be found, but in a pure disintereſted Love of God and our Neighbour. There is [7]therefore a Communion of Saints in the Love of God, which no one can learn from that which is called Orthodoxy in the different Sects, but is only to be had by a total Dying to all worldly Views, by a pure Love of God, and by ſuch an Unction from above, as de⯑livers the Mind from all Selfiſhneſs, and makes it love Truth and Goodneſs with an Equality of Affection in every Man, let his Name and Profeſſion to Religion be what it may. And by thus uniting in Heart and Spirit with all that is holy and good in all profeſſions, we enter into the true Communion of Saints, and become real Mem⯑bers of the true univerſal Chriſtian Church, tho' we are confin'd to the outward Worſhip of only one particular Part of it. It is thus, that the Angels, as miniſtring Spirits, aſſiſt, join, unite and co-ope⯑rate with every Thing that is holy and good in every Diviſion of Mankind. He that has been all his Life long uſed to look with great Slight upon thoſe of other Profeſſions, whom he has called Superſtitious Biggots, dreaming Viſionaries, canting Enthuſiaſts &c. muſt naturally expect they will be treated by God, as they have been by him; and if he had the Keys of the Kingdom of Heaven, ſuch People would find it hard, to get a Place in it. But it ſtands greatly in Hand to get rid of this Temper before we dye; for if nothing but univerſal Love can enter into the Kingdom of God, what can be more neceſſary for us, than to be full of this Love before we dye?

We often hear of People of great Zeal and Orthodoxy, declaring on their Death-Beds their ſtrict Attachment to the Church of Eng⯑land, and making ſolemn Proteſtations againſt all other Churches; but how much better would it be, if ſuch a Perſon was to ſay, ‘In this divided State of Chriſtendom, I muſt conform to ſome outward divided Part of it, and therefore I have choſen to live and dye in outward Communion with the church of England; fully believing, that if I worſhip God in Spirit and in Truth, in this divided Part of the Church, I ſhall be as acceptable to him, as if I had been a faithful Member of the one whole Church before it was broken into ſeparate Parts. But as I am now going out of this diſordered Diviſion, into a more univerſal State of Things, as I am going to the God of all Churches, to a Kingdom of univer⯑ſal Love, which muſt have its Inhabitants from all People, Nati⯑ons, and Languages of the Earth; ſo in this Spirit of univerſal Love, I deſire to perform my laſt Act of Communion in this divid⯑ed Church, uniting and joining in Heart and Spirit with all that is Chriſtian, Holy, Good and acceptable to God in all other Churches; praying, from the Bottom of my Soul, that every Church may have its Saints; that God's Kingdom may come, his Will be done in every Diviſion of Chriſtians and Men, and that every Thing that hath Breath may praiſe the Lord?’

[8]THE Humble, Meek, Merciful, Juſt, Pious and De⯑vout Souls are every where of one Religion; and when Death has taken off the Maſk, they will know one another, tho' the divers Liveries they wear here makes them Strangers. Let us chuſe to commune where there is the warmeſt Senſe of Religion; where Devotion exceeds Formality, and Practice moſt correſponds with Profeſſion; and where there is at leaſt as much Charity as Zeal. For where this Society is to be found there ſhall we find the Church of God. Willam Penn's Refl. & Max.

AN Eminent Servant of God who had known deliver⯑ance from the dark Powers and experimentally felt the Powers of the World to come a few Hours before his Death, expreſſed himſelf in the following Words. ‘There is a Spirit which I feel, that delights to do no Evil, nor to revenge any wrong, but delights to endure all Things, in Hopes to enjoy its own in the End; Its Hope is, to outlive all Wrath and Contention, and to weary out all Exaltation and Cruelty, or whatſoever is of a Nature contrary to itſelf; it ſees to the End of all Temptations; as it bears no Evil in it ſelf, ſo it conceives none in Thought to any other; for its Ground and Spring is the Mercies and Forgiveneſs of God; its Crown is Meekneſs; its Life is everlaſting Love unfeigned, and takes its Kingdom with Intreaty, and not with Con⯑tention, and keeps it by lowlineſs of Mind; in God a⯑lone it can rejoice, tho' none elſe regard it, or can own its Life; 'tis conceived in Sorrow, and brought forth without any to pity it, nor doth it murmur at Grief and Oppreſſion; it never rejoiceth but thro' Sufferings, for with the World's Joy it is murdered. I found it alone being forſaken: I have Fellowſhip therein with them that lived in Dens and deſolate Places of the Earth, who through Death obtained Reſurrection and eternal holy Life.’