ing the earth, the streams, the skies, the trees,
A Chapel of Ease.
Whereas, as you would plan it,
Wall'd in with hard Scotch granite,
People all day should look to their behaviors;--
But though there be, as Shakspeare owns,
"Sermons in stones,"
Zounds! Would you have us work at them like paviors?

Spontaneous is pure devotion's fire;
And in a green wood many a soul has built
A new Church, with a fir-tree for its spire,
Where Sin has prayed for peace, and wept for guilt,
Better than if an architect the plan drew;
We know of old how medicines were back'd,
But true Religion needs not to be quack'd
By an Un-merry Andrew!

Suppose a poor town-weary sallow elf
At Primrose-hill would renovate himself,
Or drink (and no great harm)
_Milk_ genuine at _Chalk_ Farm,--
The innocent intention who would balk,
And drive him back into St. Bennet Fink?
For my part, for my life, I cannot think
A walk on Sunday is "the Devil's Walk."

But there's a sect of Deists, and their creed
Is D----ing other people to be d----d,--
Yeas, all that are not of their saintly level,
They make a pious point
To send, with an "aroint,"
Down to that great Fillhellenist, the Devil.
To such, a ramble by the River Lea
Is really treading on the "Banks of D----."

Go down to Margate, wisest of law-makers,
And say unto the sea, as Canute did,
(Of course the sea will do as it is bid,)
"This is the Sabbath--but there be no Breakers!"
Seek London's Bishop, on some Sunday morn,
And try him with your tenets to inoculate,--
Abuse his fine souchong, and say in scorn,
"This is not _Churchman's_ Chocolate!"

Or, seek Dissenters at their mid-day meal,
And read them from your Sabbath Bill some passages,
And while they eat their mutton, beef, and veal,
Shout out with holy zeal,--
"These are not _Chappet's_ sassages!"
Suppose your Act should act up to your will,
Yet how will it appear to Mrs. Grundy,
To hear you saying of this pious bill,
"It _works_ well--on a Sunday!"

To knock down apple-stalls is now too late,
Except to starve some poor old harmless madam;--
You might have done some good, and chang'd our fate,
Could you have upset _that_, which ruined Adam!
'Tis useless to prescribe salt-cod and eggs,
Or lay post-horses under legal fetters,
While Tattersall's on Sunday stirs its _Legs_,
Folks look for good examples from their _Betters_!

Consider,--Acts of Parliament may bind
A man to go where Irvings are discoursing--
But