Ah, could we but set the land free From those bawlers about the _Decree_, Who’re such torments to you, to my brother, and me!
As for _Whitefield_, I know it right well, He has sent down his thousands to hell; And, for aught that I know, he’s gone with ’em to dwell.
I grant, my friend John, for ’tis true, That he was not so _perfect_ as YOU: Yet (confound him) I lost him, for all I could do.
Take comfort! he’s not gone to glory; Or, at most, not above the _first_ story. For none but the _perfect_ escape purgatory.
At best he’s in _limbo_, I am sure; And must still a long purging endure, Ere like _me_, he’s made sinless, quite holy, and pure.
Such purging my Johnny needs none. By your own mighty works it is done, And the kingdom of glory your _merit_ has won.
Thus wrapt in your self-righteous plod, And self-raised when you throw off this clod, You shall mount, and demand your own seat like a god:
You shall not in Paradise wait, But climb the _third_ story with state; While your _Whitefields_ and _Hills_ are turn’d back from the gate.
Old John never dreamt that he jeer’d: So Nick turn’d himself round, and he sneer’d; And then shrugg’d up his shoulders, and straight disappear’d.
The priest, with a simpering face, Shook his hair-locks and paused for a space: Then sat down to forge lyes, with his usual grimace.
I have no doubt I shall get but little thanks for the revival of this old controversy, nor should I have mentioned it, but—1st, To inform you how my mind was harrassed at times between Calvinism and Arminianism, and how I was delivered from that shackling system into electing and _constraining_ love.—2. To caution others against such a sandy foundation.—3. To shew you the state of the professing church at this day. How once _they_ tried those who said they were apostles and were not, but were found liars, and who very industriously carried their system, as they now do, to almost every quarter of the globe: but, alas! this first love is left, and a system of moderation is adopted to please the pharisaic part of the world, by those who _know_ better; this is giving their colours to the enemy indeed. We see this in some old ministers who were once zealous for truth; but now, alas! occupy the very pulpits, and wink at those very errors they once opposed. How is the gold become dim, and the most fine gold changed. Instead of the Lord’s controversy—a statement and defence of truth in its purity—many of our Dissenting, Independent, and Baptist congregations, are entertained with a dish or two of Fuller’s earth and Baxteriansand; their sermons in general being eked out with a stir about the Antinomians, merely to help out at a dead lift when they have nothing else to say. I speak this of our modern Calvinists; but blessed be God we have still a few names in our sardis that have not defiled their garments, and who are bold champions for _all_ the truth, as it is in Christ; the Lord increase their number in the churches of every denomination.—Amen.