Page:Death bed, or, Patience & resignation (to the will of God) displayed.pdf/2



A a detector of the heart,

Here tir'd diſſimulation drops her maſque,

Thro' lifes grimace,--

Whatever farce the boaſtful hero plays,

VIRTUE alone has majeſty in death;

And greater ſtill, the more the tyrant frowns.

The chamber where the good man meets his fate

Is priviledg’d beyond the common walk

Of Virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven;

''Fly, ye Profane ! or elſe draw near with awe,''

Receive the bleſſing, and adore the chance,

That threw in this Batheſda your disease;

If unrestor'd by this, deſpair your cure.

HOMAS DAVISON, a poor brick-layer, had the misfortune to bury his wife; the expenſe of her long illneſs, and his having been out of work for many weeks, reduced him to the greateſt diſtreſs. He beheld his children around him, half naked, and in want of bread, while his poor ancient mother lay at the point of death upon a little ſtraw in the corner of his cottage; overwhelmed with grief, the poo man ſhat himſelf down upon an old broken chair, and covering his face with his hands