SEE, that thou sittest not to eat,
Before thou first hast bless'd thy meat!
Nor rise from thence, 'till thou hast given
Due thanks unto the Lord of heaven!

Christ never touch'd e'en barley-bread,
(Much less when He on better fed)
'Till he had first his victuals bless'd,
And for the same his thanks express'd.

For who wou'd eat the foot, that's curst
Since Adam's fall, ere he had first
(By calling on God's holy name,
And prayer) sanctify'd the same?

'Tis terrible, and sad to see,
(And rude unto the last degree,
And full as impious as 'tis rude)
Men rush, like brutes, unto their food!

But 'tis as sad, when they are fed,
To see them rise from meat, to bed,
Like hogs, that from their draff retire,
To grunt and wallow in the mire.

No grace before their meat they say,
Nor for a blessing on it pray,
Nor when they breakfast, sup, or dine,
More thanks return than fatted swine.

Although it be the Lord's request,
When they their hunger have represt,
That they to God due thanks shou'd give,
Who fills with food all things that live.

Take heed, lest thou shou'dst eat too much,
I wou'd not have thee dainties touch;
For dainties, eaten to excess,
Will make the carnal part transgress.

If thou the flesh, beyond its need,
Indulgest, thou a foe dost feed
Most fatal :- If thou giv'st it less,
Thou dost a trusty friend oppress.

Drink not too much, if thou art wise,
A little, nature does suffice:
Strong drink has oft been stronger found
Than those, that were for strength renown'd.

'Twas wine, made Noah shew his shame,
'Twas wine, did Lot with lust inflame,
'Twas wine, so many did undo,
'Twas wine, did Philip's son subdue.

Of luxury and sloth beware -
Let not thy table be thy snare -
Lest Satan make thee go astray,
When full, and against God inveigh.

The lark, whilst at her meal, still plies
With ceaseless diligence both eyes -
One looks about for food, they say,
The other marks the birds of prey.

So use thou, night and day, thy eyes;
Lest Satan's wiles thy soul surprize -
Who, whensoever thou dost eat,
Wou'd fain ensnare thee by thy meat.

When-e'er the growse-cock feeds, for fear,
He turns his eyes still here and there;
Lest, whilst he heedless fed at ease,
The falcon shou'd his body seize.

So, whilst at meat, let both thy eyes
Be vigilant against suprize -
Let one, thy Maker's works regard,
T'other, against the fiend keep ward.

Eat thou no kind of meat at all,
Shall make thy fellow Christian fall:
The scripture plainly does declare
Thou no man shalt by meat ensnare.

Chuse not alone to eat thy fare,
But give the poor and sick a share:
Call him that's weak to taste thy feast,
And let the foodless be thy guest.

Old Tobit never din'd, before
He call'd about him all the poor,
Nor touch'd a bit of the repast,
'Till he had given them a taste.

Job, never thought his morsel sweet,
Unless the poor with him did eat,
Nor ever felt true joy at heart,
'Till he had given them a part.

Like him, thy guests, the needy make,
And let them of thy meal partake,
So shalt thou likewise, as his guest,
Partake of Christ's celestial feast.

Repine not, but well-pleas'd receive,
Whate'er th' Almighty deigns to give:
The Patriarchs oft contented were
With bread and water for their fare.

Beans, and a common sort of Pease,
Of old did holy Daniel please;
The prophets' sons were likewise fed
On homely fare, and barley bread.

Why then shou'd we not be content
With whatsoe'er our God has sent,
So it suffices to assuage
(B' it more or less) keen hunger's rage?

Our blessed Saviour was content
To feast with Abraham, near his tent,
On common fare, though plain and good,
And never ask'd for dainty food.

But Now scarce one is satisfy'd
To have his table well supply'd,
Unless on sev'ral cates he dines,
With pastry, and luxurious wines.

They must have sauce with fish and fowls
As capers, samphire, rocombole,
Ere they can make a meal of meat :
Their luxury and pride's so great!

For useless sauces now cost more,
Than joints entire did heretofore
Of that substantial, wholesome meat,
Our good forefathers us'd to eat.

The son of Philip, term'd the Great,
No sauce did with his victuals eat,
But what he in his stomach brought,
When he had stoutly march'd, or fought.

The elder Cyrus often took
His luncheon, near some purling brook,
Whence he might water freely take,
And all his host their thirst might slake.

But now whene'er they sup or dine,
Our squeamish moderns must have wine,
Claret, perhaps a pint, or so,
Ere, down their throats, a bit can go.

God, give provision to the poor -
God, make them bounteous, who have store,
God, pardon us, when we've transgress'd,
God, for our food be always bless'd!