What Is A Church?—our Honest

But Jest Apart--what Virtue Canst Thou Trace In That Broad Trim That Hides Thy Sober Face? Does That Long-skirted Drab, That Over-nice And Formal Clothing, Prove A Scorn Of Vice? Then For Thine Accent--what In Sound Can Be So Void Of Grace As Dull Monotony?

What Is A Church?—our Honest Sexton Tells, 'tis A Tall Building, With A Tower And Bells.

Her Air, Her Manners, All Who Saw Admir'd; Courteous Though Coy, And Gentle Though Retir'd; The Joy Of Youth And Health Her Eyes Display'd, And Ease Of Heart Her Every Look Convey'd.

Impertinence Will Intermeddle In Things In Which It Has No Concern, Showing A Want Of Breeding, Or, More Commonly, A Spirit Of Sheer Impudence.

Men Famed For Wit, Of Dangerous Talents Vain, Treat Those Of Common Parts With Proud Disdain; The Powers That Wisdom Would, Improving, Hide, They Blaze Abroad, With Inconsid'rate Pride; While Yet But Mere Probationers For Fame, They Seize The Honor They Should Then Disclaim: Honor So Hurried To The Light Must Fade, The Lasting Laurels Nourish In The Shade.