Aaron Hill

When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine,
Inspir'd cold water, with the warmth of wine,
See! read more

When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine,
Inspir'd cold water, with the warmth of wine,
See! cry'd they while, in red'ning tide, it gush'd,
The bashful stream hath seen its God and blush'd.

Just as the felon condemn'd to die--
With a very natural loathing--
Leaving the sheriff to dream read more

Just as the felon condemn'd to die--
With a very natural loathing--
Leaving the sheriff to dream of ropes,
From his gloomy cell in a vision elopes,
To caper on sunny greens and slopes,
Instead of the dance upon nothing.

"Rogue that I am," he whispers to himself,
"I lie, I cheat--do anything for pelf,
But who read more

"Rogue that I am," he whispers to himself,
"I lie, I cheat--do anything for pelf,
But who on earth can say I am not pious?"

The man who pauses on the paths of treason,
Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.

The man who pauses on the paths of treason,
Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.

Tender handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man read more

Tender handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man of mettle,
And it soft as silk remains.