OFT have I seen a blush o'erspread the face
Of some old sinner, when he first said Grace,
Though he long since shou'd have been whelm'd with shame,
Because he ne'er before had said the same.

But such a shame may no man ever shew,
Th' example of his Saviour to pursue:
But may each sinner blush, shou'd he e'er dine,
And eat his food unhallow'd, like a swine.

The ox those hands, that give him fodder, knows,
The stupid ass, to whom his food he owes,
And makes him all the poor return he can;
There's nought ungrateful in the world, but man!

But many men, more stupid on the whole,
Know not the gracious Shepherd of their soul,
Who feeds them in his pastures green and gay,
And loads them with his blessings, ev'ry day.

Even the little birds their voices raise,
And for their food their benefactor praise -
With tuneful notes they laud him all day long;
That 'tis a bliss to listen to their song!

With emulation fir'd on ev'ry spray,
They seem to strive throughout the live-long day,
Which best shall praise the bounteous God above,
Who fills their bellies in the secret grove.

But men are much more thankless and more dull,
Who, when the Lord has fed them to the full,
Yet in his praises are, like fishes, mute,
And more ungrateful than the meanest brute.

Do not such thankless folks as these deserve,
That they shou'd in th' infernal dungeons starve,
Because they will not their Preserver know,
Nor any thanks for all his favours show?

O, may no Christian ever study then,
To imitate so vile a set of men!
But if he shou'd - without the least dispute,
I shall pronounce him worse than any brute.