First, of the first—­your stores at once produce;
And bring your reading to its proper use: 
On doctrines dwell, and every point enforce
By quoting much, the scholar’s sure resource;
For he alone can show us on each head
What ancient schoolmen and sage fathers said. 
No worth has knowledge, if you fail to show
How well you studied and how much you know: 
Is faith your subject, and you judge it right
On theme so dark to cast a ray of light,
Be it that faith the orthodox maintain,
Found in the rubric, what the creeds explain;
Fail not to show us on this ancient faith
(And quote the passage) what some martyr saith: 
Dwell not one moment on a faith that shocks
The minds of men sincere and orthodox;
That gloomy faith, that robs the wounded mind
Of all the comfort it was wont to find
From virtuous acts, and to the soul denies
Its proper due for alms and charities;
That partial faith, that, weighing sins alone,
Lets not a virtue for a fault atone;
That partial faith, that would our tables clear,
And make one dreadful Lent of all the year;
And cruel too, for this is faith that rends
Confiding beauties from protecting friends;
A faith that all embracing, what a gloom
Deep and terrific o’er the land would come! 
What scenes of horror would that time disclose! 
No sight but misery, and no sound but woes;
Your nobler faith, in loftier style convey’d,
Shall be with praise and admiration paid: 
On points like these your hearers all admire
A preacher’s depth, and nothing more require. 
Shall we a studious youth to college send,
That every clown his words may comprehend? 
’Tis for your glory, when your hearers own
Your learning matchless, but the sense unknown. 
   “Thus honour gain’d, learn now to gain a friend,
And the sure way is—­never to offend;
For, James, consider—­what your neighbours do
Is their own business, and concerns not you: 
Shun all resemblance to that forward race
Who preach of sins before a sinner’s face;
And seem as if they overlook’d a pew,
Only to drag a failing man in view: 
Much should I feel, when groaning in disease,
If a rough hand upon my limb should seize;
But great my anger, if this hand were found
The very doctor’s who should make it sound: 
So feel our minds, young Priest, so doubly feel,
When hurt by those whose office is to heal. 
   “Yet of our duties you must something tell,
And must at times on sin and frailty dwell;
Here you may preach in easy, flowing style,
How errors cloud us, and how sins defile: 
Here bring persuasive tropes and figures forth,
To show the poor that wealth is nothing worth;
That they, in fact, possess an ample share
Of the world’s good, and feel not half its care: 
Give them this comfort, and, indeed, my gout
In its full vigour causes me some doubt;
And let it always, for your zeal, suffice