Religion
To the Votaries of Pleasure
From The Works of Mrs. Anne Steele (Boston, 1808)
Ye mirthful tribes, who careless, vain, and gay,
In pleasure's flowery paths untiring stray;
Say, can you boast content? Ah, no; the sigh,
Involuntary, breathes your sad reply.
And conscience speaks: attend the friendly pow'r
Indulge one serious, one reflecting hour.
Earth's soft allurements, empty, light, and vain,
Are dreams of joy; you wake to real pain.
When pleasure dawns, serenely fair and bright,
'Tis shaded soon with clouds, and lost in night:
Yet still you fondly court its flatt'ring smiles;
Again it glitters, and again beguiles.
Will you be tempted thus with painted charms,
And follow shadows with extended arms?
While nobler pleasures stand neglected by,
Nor move your heart, nor raise your languid eye?
Delights refin'd, and lasting, court your choice,
And heav'nly wisdom sues with melting voice:
"How long, deluded, wretched souls; how long
"Shall pleasure sooth you with her syren song?
"Ah fly the fatal smile, th' enchanting strain,
"And let the gay deceiver tempt in vain."
Turn at the friendly call; O yet be wise,
To real pleasures raise your cheated eyes.
May the kind admonition, deep imprest,
Dwell on your hearts, and teach you to be blest!
Think where you tread! — the path which looks so gay.
Is ruin's sure, inevitable way.
Think — life immortal, or eternal death,
Precarious trembles on a moment's breath.
This single moment's yours — the next may bear
Your souls to endless darkness and despair.
Fly from the world's deluding, tempting wiles,
While time is yours, and heav'nly mercy smiles:
From sin, from all its soul-destroying charms,
Fly to the great Redeemer's open arms.
Now with a gentle, kind, inviting voice,
He calls, he courts you to immortal joys.
O hear those winning accents, hear and prove
The boundless blessings of his pard'ning love.
Ere long, that slighted voice, with dreadful sound,
Shall with the keenest pangs of terror wound;
Shall wound those guilty souls, who dare despise
His sov'reign grace; nor life nor glory prize.
Before his dreadful bar you must appear:
That awful, that tremendous hour, how near
To you unknown; yet ev'ry moment brings
Th' important period nearer on its wings.
How will your now unmov'd, relentless heart
Then bear the word, the dreadful word, Depart?
Depart condemn'd, accursed down to hell,
Where black despair, and endless torment dwell?
In time reflect, and tremble at the view,
The fatal path to death no more pursue.
Fly for your lives, to safety instant fly;
Ah, wretched ling'ring souls, why will you die?
While heav'nly patience lengthens out your day,
And God's unerring word directs the way,
O seize the fleeting hour, the precious Now,
And at the Saviour's feet for mercy bow.
Cite this poem
MLA
Steele, Anne. “To the Votaries of Pleasure.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/steele_anne/163/.
Chicago
Steele, Anne. “To the Votaries of Pleasure.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/steele_anne/163/.
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