1 Corinthians: But O, take heed, ye souls unskill'd

But O, take heed, ye souls unskill'd
What fabric on this ground ye raise;
Gold, silver, pearls, on Jesus build,
Your solid, vital happiness,—
Doctrines which may the test endure,
Actions, and words, and tempers pure.

Taught by the oracles of God,
The permanent materials choose,
Doctrines which have for ages stood;
But every novel scheme refuse:
Nor on that one Foundation lay
The wood, the stubble, or the hay.

Wood, stubble, hay,--of creeds untrue,
Traditions, miracles unknown,
Worship Divine to saints undue,—
The various ways for sin to' atone,
The flames that venial sins consume,
And all the boasts of modern Rome.

Wood, stubble, hay,—of lifeless forms,
Of canons, rites, inventions vain,
Of precepts taught by erring worms,
Of laws which God did ne'er ordain,
Of fancy's dreams, and wild excess,
And instantaneous perfectness.
3081. Every man's work shall be made manifest, Sc, Hill 13; 4s
The process of that dreadful day,
Discerning truth from specious lies,
Shall every principle display,
Shall every doctrine scrutinise,
If one with the unerring word,
The standard of our heavenly Lord.

He comes triumphant from above,
His lightnings set the world on fire;
The fire shall every fabric prove,
And if, 'midst flaming worlds entire,

But if the fire thy work consume,
Thy labour's recompence is lost;
Yet rescued from the' apostate's doom,
Who feebly didst on Jesus trust,
Thou shalt out of the burning fly,
And scarcely saved, attain the sky.
3082. Now ye are full, now ye are rich, ye have, &c.—iv. 8.

YE full, of confidence unsound,
Ye rich, in gifts and faith untried,
Whose joys with nature mix'd abound,
Self-praised, self-pleased, self-satisfied,
Slight not your aged fathers poor,
Nor boast your own salvation sure.

Ye talkers of your perfect love,
Who kings, without your teachers, reign,
As pillars in the church above,
That never can go out again,
Be warn'd; or pride will cast you down,
And Satan rob you of your crown.

We wish your full perfection here,
We wish your soothing dreams were true,
That faith's almighty Finisher
Had form'd your sinless souls anew,
Stablish'd, enthroned in lasting peace,
In all the heights of holiness.
I Corinthians tv. 8—19.

O were the fiend expell'd indeed
From all who fancy him expell'd!
Extirpated the sinful seed,
The' original wound completely heal'd,
The kingdom in your hearts restored,
And every servant as his Lord!

Then would your guides their charge attend
With joy, and not with grief and pain,
Your meek and lowly love commend,
And sharers of your triumph reign,
See all their flock o'er Jordan pass'd,
And enter into rest—the last.