On Clergymen Preaching Politics

   Indeed, Sir Peter, I could wish, I own,

That parsons would let politics alone;

Plead, if they will, the customary plea,

For such like talk, when o'er the dish of tea:

But when they tease us with it from the pulpit,

I own, Sir Peter, that I cannot help it.

   If on their rules a justice should intrench,

And preach, suppose a sermon, from the bench,

Would you not think your brother magistrate

Was a little touched in his hinder pate?

Now which iw worse, Sir Peter, on the total

The lay vagary, or the sacredotal?

   In ancient times, when preachers preached indeed

Their sermons, ere the learned learnt to read,

Another spirit, and another life,

Shut the church doors against all party strife:

Since then, how often heard, from sacred rostrums,

The lifeless din of Whig and Tory nostrums!

   'Tis wrong, Sir Peter, I insist upon't;

To common sense 'tis plainly an affront:

The parson leaves the Christian in a lurch,

Whene'er he brings his politics to church;

His cant, on either side, if he calls preaching,

The man's wrong-headed, and his brains want bleaching.

   Recall the time from conquering William's reign,

And guess the fruits of such a preaching vein:

How oft its nonsense must have veered about,

Just as the politics were in, or out:

The pulput governed by no gospel data,

But new success still mending old errata.

   Were I a king (God bless me) I should hate

My chaplains meddling with affairs of state;

Nor would my subjects, I should think, be fond,

Whenever theirs the Bible went beyond.

How well, methinks, we both should live together,

If these good folks would keep within their tether!

John Byrom

Hymn for Christmas Day

Christians awake, salute the happy morn,

Whereon the saviour of the world was born;

Rise, to adore the mystery of love,

Which hosts of angels chanted from above:

With them the joyful tidings first begun

Of God incarnate, and the Virgin's son:

Then to the watchful shepherds it was told,

Who heard the angelic herald's voice -- "Behold!

I bring good tidings of a saviour's birth

To you, and all the nations of the earth;

This day hath God fulfilled his promised word;

This day is born a saviour, Christ, the Lord:

In David's city, shepherds, ye shall find

The long foretold redeemer of mankind;

Wrapped up in swaddling clothes, the babe divine

Lies in a manger; this shall be your sign."

He spoke, and straightway the celestial choir,

In hymns of joy, unknown before, conspire;

The praises of redeeming love they sung,

And heaven's whole orb with halleluhjahs rung:

God's highest glory was their anthem still;

Peace upon earth, and mutual good-will.

To Bethlehem straight the enlightened shepherds ran,

To see the wonder God had wrought for man;

And found, with Joseph and the blessed maid,

Her son, the saviour, in a manger laid.

Amazed, the wondrous story they procaim;

The first apostles of this infant fame:

While Mary keeps, and ponders in her heart,

The heavenly vision, which the swains impart;

They to their flocks, still praising God, return,

And their glad hearts within their bosoms burn.

   Let us, like these good shepherds then, employ

Our grateful voices to proclaim the joy:

Like Mary, let us ponder in our mind

God's wondrous love in saving lost mankind;

Artless, and watchful, as these favoured swains,

While virgin meekness in the heart remains:

Trace we the babe, who has retrieved our loss,

From his poor manger to his bitter cross;

Treading his steps, assisted by his grace,

Till man's first heavenly state again takes place:

Then may we hope, the angelic thrones among,

To sing, redeemed, a glad triumphal song;

He that was born, upon this joyful day,

Around us all, his glory shall display;

Saved by his love, incessant we shall sing

Of angels, and of angel-men, the king.

John Byrom