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I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?

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Greatly Pity Rum Slavery Sugar

Bagwalas

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Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.
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Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break, With blessings on your head
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Pleasure admitted in undue degree, enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
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O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.
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Manner is all in all, whate’er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
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Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.
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The Spirit breathes upon the Word and brings the truth to sight.
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The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear; And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive.
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The path of sorrow, and that path alone, leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.
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He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color’d like his own, and having pow’r T’ enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
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Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilirate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.
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Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.
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What peaceful hours I once enjoy’d! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.
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Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
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Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin; So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.
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