LXXXVI. The Priest, the Levite, and the charitable Samaritan. A Prieft as chanc'd came next along the way And faw where in his Blood he welt'ring lay, But far from home, to help him could not stay. A Levite next a glance of Pity cast, But that was all, without Affiftance paft. His hated Birth; the wounded wretch he knew; Rich Oyl and Wine infus'd, and gently bound; And promis'd, what the Hoft expends, to pay. --Which of the three who on the Road did pass, Which, think you, the poor Trav'ler's Neighbour was? --The Lawyer-- He who found him on the Road, And to the wounded Wretch, Compaffion show'd: Go thou and do the fame, our Lord rejoyn'd, And Mercy show to all, as you wou'd Mercy find. LXXXVI. St. LUKE Chap. X. Ver. 31, to 34. 86 31-By chance there came down a certain priest that way; and when he faw him, he paffed by on the other fide. 32. And likewife a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other fide. 33. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he faw him, he had compaffion on him, 34. And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oyl and wine, and fet him on his own beaft, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. LXXXVII. Martha entertains Chrift. One Thing needful. NOW, with his Twelve, the noisy Town he leaves, And Martha them at Bethany receives; Solicitous her Guest to entertain, While Mary ftill did at his Feet remain, What Pains and Care for needlefs Luxuries! LXXXVII. St. LUKE Chap. X. Ver. 38, to 42. 87 38. Martha received him into her house. 39. And he had a fifter called Mary, which alfo fat at Fefus feet, and heard his word. 40. But Martha was cumbred about much ferving, and came to him, and faid, Lord, doft thou not care that my fifter bath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that fhe help me. 41. And Fefus answered, and faid unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful, and troubled about many things: 42. But one thing is needful. And Mary hath chofen that good part. LXXXVIII. The Rich Mifer fuddenly destroy'd. A Wealthy Churl there was, who car'd for none Befides himself, and liv'd upon his own; From whose large Fields when plenteous Crops were giv❜n, He thank'd his Dung and Ploughs, but ne're thank'd So overgrown at length his hoarded Store, With all his Fruits and Goods, what shall he do? ---Soul, take thine Eafe! I for the best advise, We're Rich enough, and therefore must be Wise: We ne're can want, give to the Winds thy Fears, We've Corn and Gold laid up for many Years. We'll eat and drink, and revel every Day, Confcience we'll drown,and chafe our Cares away. When loe a Voice like Thunder, ftrikes his Ear From Heav'n, which ne're before he knew to Fear, "Thou Fool! this Night's thy laft, and when thou'rt gone, "Then, whofe is all that Wealth thou now mifcall'ft thy own? |