Chapter 8 No.8

Kind star, still may'st thou shed thy sacred influence here,

Or from thy private peaceful orb appear;

For, sure, we want some guide from Heaven, to show

The way which every wand'ring fool below

Pretends so perfectly to know;

And which, for aught I see, and much I fear,

The world has wholly miss'd;

I mean the way which leads to Christ:

Mistaken idiots! see how giddily they run,

Led blindly on by avarice and pride,

What mighty numbers follow them;

Each fond of erring with his guide:

Some whom ambition drives, seek Heaven's high Son

In Caesar's court, or in Jerusalem:

Others, ignorantly wise,

Among proud doctors and disputing Pharisees:

What could the sages gain but unbelieving scorn;

Their faith was so uncourtly, when they said

That Heaven's high Son was in a village born;

That the world's Saviour had been

In a vile manger laid,

And foster'd in a wretched inn?