The Parson Knows Enough Who Knows A

My Soul Is Sick With Every Day's Report Of Wrong And Outrage With Which Earth Is Filled.

Religion Caesar Never Knew Thy Posterity Shall Sway, Where His Eagles Never Flew, None As Invincible As They.

Pity! Religion Has So Seldom Found A Skilful Guide Into Poetic Ground! The Flowers Would Spring Where'er She Deign'd To Stray And Every Muse Attend Her In Her Way.

But Truths On Which Depends Our Main Concern, That 'tis Our Shame And Misery Not To Learn, Shine By The Side Of Every Path We Tread With Such A Lustre He That Runs May Read.

Words Learn'd By Rote A Parrot May Rehearse, But Talking Is Not Always To Converse, Not More Distinct From Harmony Divine The Constant Creaking Of A Country Sign.