Title: Sabbath-Breaking on the Canal - A Poem
Author: Clutton, Rev. John
Language: English
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Transcribed from the [1820?] Parry and Son edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org

                      [Picture: Public domain cover]



                             SABBATH-BREAKING
                              ON THE CANAL.


                                 A POEM.

                                * * * * *

                    BY THE REVEREND JOHN CLUTTON, A.M.
                         PREBENDARY OF HEREFORD.

                                * * * * *

       _Respectfully dedicated to the Reverend John Davies_, _A.M._
                 _Rector of St. Clement’s_, _Worcester_.

                                * * * * *

      WHILE COMMERCE, crown’d with wealth, extends her reign,
   The Sons of labour swell her length’ning train;
   O’er hill and dale she forms the winding road,
   Where the slow team scarce drags the pond’rous load;
   She digs the deep Canal; with ease the horse
   Draws massive cargoes on the humid course;
   Her various stores she hastens to impart,
   And for her treasures finds a ready mart.

      Ye Sons of labour, hail! your hardy hands
   With plenty decorate our smiling lands;
   The jetty ore that feeds the cheerful flame,
   The freighted vessels, still your toil proclaim:
   From distant lands the tide of Commerce flows,
   And weighty burdens on your shoulders throws;
   The general weal your anxious cares promote,
   But few your never-ceasing toils will note,
   Hard toils exacted on the Sabbath days;
   Ah! thus ye wander from God’s holy ways:
   To heav’n ascends the cry of your distress,
   And may the King of heav’n your wrongs redress.

      Yon bark, that sails the flowery bank beside,
   Contains a soul for which the Saviour died,
   Which in the heights of heav’n, or depths of hell,
   Is destin’d through eternity to dwell:
   The Sabbath smiles; but, bound with Satan’s chain,
   On Mammon’s slave the Sabbath smiles in vain:
   The bells that utter their melodious chime
   Each Sabbath day, at morning’s hour of prime,
   Convey no music to the boatman’s ear,
   Intent his course towards ruin’s gulph to steer;
   Still on the Sacred Day his bark he plies,
   Nor stops to worship Him who rules the skies.
   Will none commiserate his hapless case,
   Nor bid him seek Jehovah’s saving grace?
   “In Zion woe to them that are at ease” {2a}
   Denounc’d the prophet; who themselves would please.
   “The plague, the famine, noisome beasts, the sword,” {2b}
   These are the judgments of th’ offended Lord.
   Think not the great Jehovah sleeps supine,
   Sooner yon radiant orb shall cease to shine:
   For broken Sabbaths clouds of wrath will lower,
   And who can stay “the thunder of his power?”
   But judgment is the Lord’s unwonted deed,
   Unwillingly He makes the sinner bleed:
   The door of Mercy still is open found,
   To penitence and pardon calls abound.

      Turn, then, ye Sabbath-breakers, quickly turn,
   Your Saviour’s offer now no longer spurn;
   Your heav’nly Intercessor takes his stand,
   Above all angels, at the Lord’s right hand;
   Before His face with lowliest rev’rence fall,
   Believe that “Jesus Christ is Lord of all,” {3}
   And seek for grace t’ establish this belief;
   Eternity is long, our lives are brief;
   From such belief will prompt obedience flow,
   As from the root the stem and branches grow;
   Thus on your heads will choicest gifts descend,
   For those that serve Him will the Lord befriend.

      Where Weaver pours her tribute in the main,
   The rest Sabbatic cheers the drooping swain;
   A wat’ry track full many a league extends,
   Where the strong oar the hardy boatman bends;
   Trade’s empire there let Fancy’s eye explore,
   Where Sunday labour harrows man no more.
   ’Tis said (and I believe the wondrous tale)
   When the sixth Night hath spread her shadowy veil,
   Soon as from yonder venerable tower
   Time’s iron tongue proclaims the midnight hour,
   Clos’d are the locks throughout the wat’ry way,
   And clos’d remain upon Jehovah’s day;
   Faith, Hope, and Charity their powers combin’d
   This rest to purchase for the weary hind.
   How chang’d the scene since He who reigns above
   Drew to Himself men’s hearts “with bands of love!”
   Where erst arose fierce hell-engender’d strife,
   And all the vices that embitter life,
   Peace o’er the land her olive branch extends,
   And prayer from many a heart to heav’n ascends.
   Where at the lock the swelling waters rise
   Men now obey the Sovereign of the skies:
   The angry menace, and the oath profane,
   Passions uncheck’d by sober Reason’s rein,
   All now are hush’d; for Sin no more holds sway,
   No longer makes immortal souls his prey;
   His warmth “the Sun of righteousness” imparts,
   And Faith takes root in their regen’rate hearts.
   Since oft, ’tis said, Example’s beauteous light,
   When precepts fail, allures to actions right,
   So may we hope that other tribes will know
   What numerous blessings from obedience flow;
   For they that hallow God’s peculiar Day
   Will find Him still their Guardian and their Stay:
   Who for Christ’s sake have earthly stores resign’d
   A sacred never-fading bliss will find.

      Happy, thrice happy he whom heav’nly grace
   Taught to forsake a soul-ensnaring race,
   Firm Jonathan; {4} who spurn’d the proffer’d wealth,
   Glad to secure his soul’s eternal health;
   Untutor’d he to read God’s Book, or write,
   Still in Jehovah’s law he found delight;
   Nor dar’d the holy Sabbath to profane
   By grasping greedily at filthy gain;
   He “sleeps in Jesus,” {5a} and through endless days
   Will rise to hymn his mighty Maker’s praise:
   Few are his followers; for love of gold
   Enchains the mind with adamantine fold.
   Ah! wretched he who makes, from morn till night,
   The ledger, not the Bible, his delight;
   Whose coffer with the stores of Mammon bursts,
   Whose mind for heav’nly treasures never thirsts;
   Thus let him think while days of Mercy shine,
   And inwardly digest this truth divine;—
   Wealthy can he be styl’d who gains “the world” {5b}
   If after death “his soul” to hell be hurl’d?
   Say, for what sum can one exchange “his soul,”
   Destin’d to live while endless ages roll?

      Of liberty we boast, and loudly cry,
   While triumph laughs in each expressive eye,
   “On British ground whoever treads is free,
   The happiest isle embosom’d in the sea!”
   And yet e’en here, in this our favour’d land,
   Full many a form the marks of bondage brand;
   For Satan, lording o’er a host of slaves,
   Their way to hell by Sabbath-breaking paves.

      But some bold spirits, led by grace divine,
   In wisdom’s path advancing, brightly shine;
   Some hoary-headed boatmen oft declare
   “No Sabbath saw them to their toils repair;”
   Grateful to God who thus our race hath blest,
   They held their right t’ enjoy Sabbatic rest;
   And sweet their converse to the Christian’s ear
   Who learn’d betimes Jehovah’s name to fear.
   “I left my master,” {6a} thus declar’d a youth,
   (And Charity presumes he told the truth)
   “I left my master, and disdain’d his hire,
   For Sunday’s toil was his profane desire.”
   “Give God the praise,” the heav’n-taught Pastor cries,
   “God gave the will, and He the strength supplies;
   Nor doubt that He who feeds the raven’s brood
   To you will raiment give, and daily food:
   Who Christ’s reproach with Christian patience bear
   A crown of everlasting life will wear.”

      Jehovah bids us serve Him, and rejoice;
   But Satan utters a discordant voice:
   Anxious to keep the Lord’s peculiar Day,
   A boatman found this hindrance in his way;
   “If Sunday’s work you stubbornly refuse
   Bread and your raiment you shall quickly lose;”
   So spake a master with triumphant tone,
   Deeming the man beneath the scourge would groan.
   “Better, far better,” was the just reply
   Of one who fear’d the Ruler of the sky,
   “That no bread now should cheer my gloomy cell
   Than to _want water_ in the flames of _hell_!”
   And other souls have sought their Maker’s face, {6b}
   Pluck’d from the fire, as brands, by sovereign grace.
   Who comes to Christ, though sinful and obscure,
   Takes refuge in a Rock for ever sure;
   He asks in faith, and every prayer preferr’d
   In Jesus’ holy name the Lord hath heard.

      O Thou, whose reign extends o’er earth and sky,
   Enthron’d between the Cherubim on high,
   Before Thy face “all nations nothing” {7a} seem,
   “And less” than nought the universe we deem;
   At Thy command, O Sovereign Lord of all,
   A nation rises, or is doom’d to fall;
   Forsaking Thee, men rue their crimes too late
   When justice drives them to their bitter fate:
   Assist Thy servants in this sacred cause,
   Teaching obedience to Thy holy laws;
   To sinful tribes Thy heav’nly grace impart,
   Remove “the stony,” “give” the fleshly “heart:” {7b}
   Dispose us still to hallow, Lord, Thy days,
   And zealously promote Thy glorious praise.
   O Lord, arise, and view a race opprest
   Compell’d to toil on days of holy rest:
   In Egypt’s land Thy wonder-working rod
   Made Pharaoh fear the majesty of God;
   “That they may serve Me, let My people go;” {7c}
   “That I am Lord, heav’n, earth, and hell shall know;” {7d}
   To Egypt’s King this message Moses brought,
   And ten tremendous plagues by Thee were wrought;
   At length from Pharaoh’s house of bondage free,
   Thy people march’d, triumphant, through the sea;
   The roaring waves o’erwhelm’d th’ Egyptian host,
   And Israel sung Thy praises on the coast:
   So now save sinners from their ghostly foe,
   On captive souls Thy Spirit’s aid bestow;
   To each benighted wand’rer light convey,
   Point out “the narrow” heav’n-directed “way;”
   Each Sabbath free them from their worldly care,
   And to Thy temple bid them oft repair;
   Teach them to view, with faith, their Saviour’s cross,
   Whose death redeems them from eternal loss;
   Whose blood can cleanse their souls from ev’ry sin,
   Through whom alone heav’n’s mansions they may win:
   And when at last th’ Archangel’s trump we hear,
   And round Thy throne all nations shall appear,
   O may we rise to Thy Cherubic band,
   Call’d by our heav’nly Judge to His right hand,
   To hear His blessing, and His glory see
   Throughout the ages of eternity;
   With joy uplifting our victorious palms,
   Hymning His matchless praise with holy psalms,
   Thus an eternal Sabbath may we keep,
   “One Shepherd” reigning o’er “one fold” {8} of sheep.

                                * * * * *

                                * * * * *

        _Parry and Son_, _Printers_, _Eastgate Street_, _Chester_.



FOOTNOTES.


{2a}  Amos vi. 1.

{2b}  Ezekiel xiv. 21.

{3}  Acts x. 36.

{4}  See the history of Jonathan Brown, the Bargeman, written by the Rev.
Dr. Calamy; Religious Tract Society, No. 131; price 1d.

{5a}  1 Thess. iv. 14.

{5b}  Matthew xvi. 26.

{6a}  The circumstances here recorded actually occurred.

{6b}  See the substance of a lecture on the spiritual state of the
watermen, by the Rev. J. Davies; sold by Seeley, 169, Fleet Street,
London, price 7d.

{7a}  Isaiah xl. 17.

{7b}  Ezekiel xxxvi. 26.

{7c}  Ex. viii. 1.

{7d}  Ex. vii. 17.

{8}  John x. 16.





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