Volume 25 — A LETTER AND AN ANSWER.
Reading edition
The Presbyters to Palmerston.
The Plague has come among us, Miserable sinners! Fear and remorse have stung us, Miserable sinners! We ask the State to fix a day. Whereon all men may fast and pray, That Heaven will please to turn away The Plague that works us sore dismay. Miserable sinners!
Palmerston to the Presbyters.
The Plague that comes among you, Miserable sinners! To effort hath it strung you? Miserable sinners! You ask that all should fast and pray; Better all wake and work, I say; Sloth and supineness put away, That so the Plague may cease to slay; Miserable sinners!
For Plagues like other evils, Miserable sinners! Are God's and not the Devil's, Miserable sinners! Scourges they are, but in a hand Which love and pity do command; And when the heaviest stripes do fall, 'Tis where they're wanted most of all, Miserable sinners!
Look round about your city, Miserable sinners! Arouse to shame and pity. Miserable sinners! Pray: but use brush and limewash pail; Fast: but feed those for want who fail; Bow down, gude town, to ask for grace, But bow with cleaner hands and face, Miserable sinners!
All Time God's Law hath spoken, Miserable sinners! That Law may not be broken, Miserable sinners! But he that breaks it, must endure The penalty which works the cure. To us, for God's great laws transgressed, Is doomsman Pestilence addressed, Miserable sinners!
We cannot juggle Heaven, Miserable sinners! With one day out of seven, Miserable sinners! Shall any force of fasts atone For years of duty left undone? How expiate with prayer or psalm, Deaf ear, blind eye, and folded palm? Miserable sinners!
Let us be up and stirring, Miserable sinners! 'Mongst ignorant and erring, Miserable sinners! Sloth and self-seeking from us cast, Believing this the fittest fast, For of all prayers prayed 'neath the sun There is no prayer like work well done, Miserable sinners!
Golden Bullets.
Last week news arrived from Santa Fé of a tribe of warlike Indians, who use "Golden Bullets." Since then Mr. Wyld—of the Great Globe—has been daily beset by gentlemen from the Minories and Houndsditch, for maps of the exact locality. Colonel Israel is at this moment raising a company of the Jewish persuasion, to be called the Rag Fair Rangers.
