Classic Poem

NOT every one who crieth, Lord ,
Or hear, or pray, or preach thy word,
Wilt thou in God-like accents own,
Or hail, as partners of thy throne.

What! if this sect, or that, I join,
Believe my party most divine;
Vain will my warmest notions prove,
If absent from my heart, thy love.

What! if with Calvin I agree,
Or to Arminian doctrines flee,
I still remain a child of sin,
If love does not preside within.

Let bigots for the shell contend,
In idle controversies spend
Their precious time, whom zealous fire
And notions (not thy love) inspire.

With me let names and parties fall,
Thy love, my sov'reign G OD , my all;
The substance this: — Of this possest,
'Mid flaming worlds I stand confest.