Classic Poem

In times o'ergrown with rust and ignorance,
A gainfull Trade their Clergy did advance:
When want of Learning kept the Laymen low,
And none but Priests were Authoriz'd to know ;
When what small Knowledge was, in them did dwell;
And he a God who cou'd but Reade or Spell ;
Then Mother Church did mightily prevail:
She parcel'd out the Bible by retail :
But still expounded what She sold or gave ;
To keep it in her Power to Damn or Save :
Scripture was scarce , and as the Market went,
Poor Laymen took Salvation on Content ;
As needy men take Money, good or bad:
God's Word they had not, but the Priests they had.
...
At last, a knowing Age began t' enquire
If they the Book , or That did them inspire:
And, making narrower search they found, tho' late,
That what they thought the Priest's was Their Estate ,
Taught by the Will produc'd , (the written Word,)
How long they had been cheated on Record .
Then, every man who saw the title fair,
Claim'd a Child's part, and put in for a Share:
Consulted Soberly his private good;
And sav'd himself as cheap as e'er he cou'd.

'Tis true, my Friend, (and far be Flattery hence)
This good had full as bad a Consequence:
The Book thus put in every vulgar hand,
Which each presum'd he best cou'd understand,
The Common Rule was made the common Prey ;
And at the mercy of the Rabble lay.
The tender Page with horney Fists was gaul'd;
And he was gifted most that loudest baul'd;
The Spirit gave the Doctoral Degree ,
And every member of a Company
Was of his Trade and of the Bible free .
Plain Truths enough for needfull use they found;
But men wou'd still be itching to expound ;
Each was ambitious of th' obscurest place,
No measure ta'n from Knowledge , all from Grace .
Study and Pains were now no more their Care;
Texts were explain'd by Fasting and by Prayer :
This was the Fruit the private Spirit brought;
Occasion'd by great Zeal and little Thought .
While Crouds unlearn'd, with rude Devotion warm,
About the Sacred Viands buz and swarm,
The Fly-blown Text creates a crawling Brood ;
And turns to Maggots what was meant for Food .
A Thousand daily Sects rise up, and dye;
A Thousand more the perish'd Race supply:
So all we make of Heavens discover'd Will
Is, not to have it, or to use it ill.
The Danger's much the same; on several Shelves
If others wreck us or we wreck our selves .

What then remains, but, waving each Extreme,
The Tides of Ignorance, and Pride to stem?
Neither so rich a Treasure to forgo;
Nor proudly seek beyond our pow'r to know:
Faith is not built on disquisitions vain;
The things we must believe, are few and plain :
But since men will believe more than they need ;
And every man will make himself a Creed,
In doubtfull questions 'tis the safest way
To learn what unsuspected Ancients say:
For 'tis not likely we should higher Soar
In search of Heav'n than all the Church before :
Nor can we be deceiv'd, unless we see
The Scripture and the Fathers disagree .
If after all, they stand suspected still,
(For no man's Faith depends upon his Will;)
'Tis some Relief, that points not clearly known,
Without much hazard may be let alone:
And after hearing what our Church can say,
If still our Reason runs another way,
That private Reason 'tis more Just to curb,
Than by Disputes the publick Peace disturb.
For points obscure are of small use to learn:
But Common quiet is Mankind's concern .

Thus have I made my own Opinions clear:
Yet neither Praise expect, not Censure fear:
And this unpolish'd, rugged Verse I chose;
As fittest for Discourse, and nearest prose:
For while from Sacred Truth I do not swerve,
Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's Rhimes will serve.