"[1]
Was there e'er known a case so distressing, dear Liz?
It has made me quite ill:-and the worst of it is,
When rogues are _all_ pious, 'tis hard to detect
_Which_ rogues are the reprobate, _which_ the elect.
This man "had a _call_," he said--impudent mockery!
What call had he to _my_ linen and crockery?
I'm now and have been for this week past in chase
Of some godly young couple this pair to replace.
The enclosed two announcements have just met my eyes
In that venerable Monthly where Saints advertise
For such temporal comforts as this world supplies;
And the fruits of the Spirit are properly made
An essential in every craft, calling and trade.
Where the attorney requires for his 'prentice some youth
Who has "learned to fear God and to walk in the truth;"
Where the sempstress, in search of employment, declares
That pay is no object, so she can have prayers;
And the Establisht Wine Company proudly gives out
That the whole of the firm, Co. and all, are devout.
Happy London, one feels, as one reads o'er the pages,
Where Saints are so much more abundant than sages;
Where Parsons may soon be all laid on the shelf,
As each Cit can cite chapter and verse for himself,
And the _serious_ frequenters of market and dock
All lay in religion as part of their stock.
Pages:
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407