Bartol

POET of the Pulpit, whose full-chorded lyre Startles the churches from their slumbers late, Discoursing music, mixed with lofty ire At wrangling factions in the restless state, Till tingles with thy note each listening ear,— Then household charities by the friendly fire Of home, soothe all to fellowship and good cheer! No sin escapes thy fervent eloquence, Yet, touching with compassion the true word, Thou leavest the trembling culprit’s dark offence To the mediation of his gracious Lord. To noble thought and deep dost thou dispense Due meed of praise, strict in thy just award. Can other pulpits with this preacher cope? I glory in thy genius, and take hope!