A SUPPLEMENT TO THE Asses Complaint against Balaam;
Or the Cry of the COUNTRY AGAINST Ignorant and Scandalous Ministers.
A Vaunt ye
smooth-Tongu'd flatterers of the age;
Praesto
ye meal-mouth'd Prophets; clear the Stage;
Enter the
Asse again, who (though he Kneel
Unto the
Higher Pow'rs) lifts up his Heel
Against all those who make Gods house a Den
Of
It hath been a Den of
Lay Theeves too long already.
Clergy Theeves; Have at them once agen.—But hark; I hear a
Country Parish crye,
"Were ever
Christians in such
slavery?
"Must we be taught by an
Illit'rate Bear?
"Hee
Preach? Hee'l only teach our
Boyes to
swear.
—Is then your
Priest a
Swearer? Hah —must he
That taunts a
Bishop taste a
Pillory?
And 'tis but Just, and right; Yet who controules
Him who
Blasphemes the
Bishop of our
Souls?
What? Is an
oath lesse
poenal then a
word?
Or is the
Servant greater then his
Lord?
No;
He that swears commits the fouler Sin,
And more deserves to lose his eares then —
—'Tis true
Seditious Spirits, that Deny
Obedience to the
Sacred Hierarchy,
Merit Severe Correction, let them hae't;
They'r the
Disturbers both of
Church and
State;
Yet
Praelat's Zeal would be much better shown
In striking
Gods offenders then their
own,
—Nay,
Gods are
theirs; for he that wears
lawn sleeves
Like
Christ is murder'd 'twixt a
brace of Theeves,
Both shew their
enmity, but Divers wayes,
The
Presbyter Denyes, but
This betrayes;
Now tell me
(gentle Reader) which were Greater,
The
sin of
Judas, or the
crime of
Peter?
—Then let the
Bishops cast them out, for thus
They do but
Justice to themselves and us;
Like the wise
Mariners, who, to appease
The fury of the raging
VVinds, and
Seas,
Threw
Jonas over-board; such was hi
[...]
[...]
There was no
Cannon Law to keep him in.
Nor is it reason
all should be maintain'd
I'th
Church, who took
Degrees, and were
Ordain'd;
For He that after proves a
Drunken Beast,
Degrades himselfe from
Man, much more from
Priest
And such they were who caus'd our Bloody War,
When
Levy's tribe were kick'd by
Issacar;
For though
Men speak with a
not so my Sons,
Yet
God reprov'd them with the
voice of
Guns.
Phanaticks, those
Philistins, wan the field,
Whilst our
poor Israel were forc'd to yield;
For
Eli's
boyes had lost the
Ark of God,
Each
Phinehas begat an
Ichabod.
Then
Oh ye Bishops heal these sad disasters,
We do not call for
Rectors but for
Pastors.
A Priest should
lead his
Parish as a guide,
Not
leap upon their
galled backs and
ride,
For 'tis our
Mother Churche's grand disgrace,
That these
black patches stick upon her
face.