In vain the living soul may strive
For happiness below;
This world no solid joy can give,
Nor lasting peace bestow.

Will Worthy was a sprightly lad
As ever trod the mead;
He thought no cares could make him sad,
While pleasure took the lead.

Dex’trous at all the rustic games,
He oft his strength display’d,
Now the swift race his breast inflames,
By emulation sway’d.

At every country fair and wake,
Will was the wonder there:
Fair females crowded for his sake,
And strove his smiles to share.

Sweet Nancy Wilmot of the vale,
Won William’s roving heart;
To her he told love’s tender tale,
Now nothing could them part.

To church they went, the knot was tied,
The day was spent in glee;
Inviting all to them allied,
To join their jollity.

The self-same eve, when on the green,
Will danc’d with Nance his bride;
Lo! what a sad reverse of scene,
She fainted—droop’d—and died!!!

Dismay and horror seiz’d each soul,
When this sad news was known,
For her the passing-bell did toll,
Eternity her home.

Like the weak grass, or tender flow’r,
Or vapour’s empty breath;
Sweet Nancy wither’d in an hour,
Cut down by sudden death.

William bewail’d her early fate,
A prey to woe and grief;
Pensive, forlorn, and wan he sat,
And would have no relief.

The question “if her soul was safe?”
Gave poignancy to woe;
Should hell have follow’d sudden death,
“Would she not thither go?”

From brooding on her doubtful lot,
Now fix’d for ever sure;
His mind now turn’d its every thought,
To his sick soul and cure.

“How shall I flee from wrath to come,
Where hide my guilty head?
Should I next go to my long home,
Where shall I be?” he said.

He bade adieu to sinful joy,
And trac’d the moral page;
The fine clad sentiment could cloy,
But not his grief assuage.

No, he had tried all these in vain,
All “empty, void, and waste;”
They serv’d but to increase his pain,
Involving ruin fast.

Thus, baffled, wearied, and distress’d,
He did a Bible see;
There found a prayer for one oppress’d,
“Lord, undertake for me.”

To church on Sundays he had been,
As others come and go;
But ne’er by faith had Jesus seen,
Or heard what Christ could do.

Until, with circumcised ear,
He when at church one day,
Found mercy to his soul draw near,
Which to his heart did say:

“Come unto me, thou weary soul,
Laden with num’rous sins;
No case so bad that can controul
My grace where it begins.

Why so disquieted art thou,
With sins, and fears, and care?
Lo th’ accepted time is now,
Tho’ lost, do not despair.

Lost in yourself, in Christ there’s hope,
And never till you’re lost,
Relinquish ev’ry other prop,
And then you’ll prize him most.

’Twas such he came to seek and save,
And could he come in vain?
And if no other hope you have,
You need no more complain.”

The sermon ended, Will went home,
Stepp’d up and lock’d his door;
Fell on his knees before God’s throne,
And mercy did implore.

Mercy he found, and after liv’d
Daily on Christ by faith;
To Jesus liv’d while he surviv’d,
Triumphant was in death.

FINIS.

London; Printed and sold by J. and C. Evans Long lane