YE WEARIE WAYFARER 



Oft your oily tones are heard in 



Chapel, where you preach, 

 This the everlasting burden 



Of the tale you teach : 

 ** We are d — d, our sins are deadly, 



You alone are heal'd " — 

 'Twas not thus their gospel redly 



Saints and martyrs seal'd. 

 You had seem'd more like a martyr, 



Than you seem to us, 

 To the beasts that caught a Tartar 



Once at Ephesus ; 

 Rather than the stout apostle 



Of the Gentiles, who, 

 Pagan-like, could cuff and wrestle, 



They'd have chosen you. 



Yet, I ween, on such occasion 



Your dissenting voice 

 Would have been, in mild persuasion. 



Raised against their choice ; 

 Man of peace, and man of merit, 



Pompous, wise, and grave, 

 Ephraim ! is it flesh or spirit 



You strive most to save ? 



43 



