Ecclesia & Reformatio.  
A DIALOGUE Betwixt St. Paul's Church AND Salters Hall.  
LONDON; Printed in the Year M DC XC VIII.   

A DIALOGUE Betwixt St. PAUL's Church AND SALTER's HALL..  Salter's Hall. 

TELL me, vast Fabric! where thou meanest to grow?  
What mighty top must suit thy bulk below?  
Must thy vast Spire attempt the distant Skies?  
As thy high Roof does o'er the Houses rise:  
Like some proud Mountain near a spacious Plain,  
Thou dost the Flocks and little Hills disdain:  
Thy Pageant Pomp and gilded Arches shine  
By holy Sanction, and a Light divine.  
Th' astonished Crowd before thee do confess,  
And all around the gaudy Idol bless.  
Submissive People tremble at thy Nod,  
And worship thee, though they profane their God;   

Whilst those whom Reason better things has taught,  
Are by constraint unto thy Altars brought;  
Are forced to bow; or impiously you break  
What your Faith calls the stiff and stubborn Neck.  
You, like some mighty Whale upon the Sea,  
Make trembling Fishes your Commands obey;  
Or else you execute pretended Power,  
The Right divine is given you to devour.   St. Paul's. 
This mighty Orb, by Holy Writ we be taught,  
From confused Atoms was to Order brought:  
The Days and Years in regular State began,  
And ever since in just Procession ran.  
Nature exorbitant does often grow,  
The Blood flows sometimes high, ebbs often low:  
But in Religion a Decorum 's used,  
Its Rights are orderly, and not confused.  
The brainless Mob wild Passions do control,  
And Infant-Saints need Guardians to the Soul;  
Spiritual Doctors don't the Patient please,  
But suit the Medicines to the Disease:  
If grown delirious, Physic is refused,  
Force, for the Patient's good, must then be used.  Salter's Hall. 

If human Laws may force a human Mind,  
One's fancy may fewer Conscience bind,  
And those who never owned a God at all,  
At least do blindly serve and bow to Baal.  
Make Terms of their Communion wrong or right,  
If all Religion must be made by Might;  
We choose a Doctor for our Body's Health,  
And give him Fees according to our Wealth:  
We try his Medicines, then approve his Skill,  
But think no Law empowers him to kill:  
The Heavenly Quacks no Power can control,  
They have a Right Divine to kill the Soul:  
Spiritual Physic we must take by force;  
You drench the Soul, as Farriers do a Horse.  
Where Doctors thus Man's Reason do invade,  
The Patient's sober, and the Doctor's mad:  
Had not the Mortal must such Toils endure,  
Better be damned than undergo the Cure:  
For where the Church such Recipes does bring,  
Saving and Damning is the self same thing.   

The Laws in Faith can no Direction give;  
By Grace Divine and Reason we believe:  
Tho we our Hopes in Reason do not place,  
Yet Reason follows, or is joined with Grace.  
The Spirit's Work no humane Law controls,  
And Reason tells th' effect it has on Souls.  
In vain the Soul with humane Laws you bind,  
In senseless Shackles fetter up the Mind,  
Which like th' eternal Thought is unconfined:  
As if our Sense was only fit for Trade,  
And Reason never for Religion made:  
And must not of our Souls concern debate,  
But blindly grope for an eternal State.   St. Paul's. 
Reason may be on tumbling Surges tossed,  
Or, not well governed in the Clouds, be lost:  
Reason in all things ought to have its due,  
But still have proof to know your Reason's true.  
'Tis plain how often Men do change their Mind,  
Oft as the Tides, or the unconstant Wind;  
Continual Errors 'mongst the wise abound,  
And not one Man infallible is found:  
How oft the Judgement leads the Man aside;  
And Reason wanders when it has no Guide.  
I mark the way your Reason ought to go,  
And the best Path to Heavenly Mansions show;  
By me directed you may overcome  
The crooked Serpent, and the Whore of Rome;  
I founded am upon the Rock Divine,  
I am your Guide, and the blessed Scripture's mine.  
The Holy Word, my Charter and Delight,  
And National States have recognised my Right.  
If stubborn Souls my Precepts cannot draw,  
I must convert 'em by the force of Law.  
The Body's Pleasure did the Soul oppress,  
Made Mankind fall into Unhappiness.  
The Body justly its Afflictions hath,  
To save the Soul from an eternal Wrath.  
Think it not hard if I Chastisement give,  
I scourge the Flesh, to make the Conscience live.  Salter's Hall. 
I know our Reason may be in the dark,  
And blunder oft, and often miss the mark;  
But the Alwise his Councils can unfold,  
And give his Spirit as he did of old.  
The mighty Truths of the Eternal Word  
No aids of humane Reason can afford:  
The Light Divine is evermore concealed,  
But by the God of Light himself revealed,  
Whose Spirit reaches to the inward Parts,  
He views the secret corners of our Hearts:  
Were you my Guide, I needs must go astray,  
When only Jus Divinum leads the way:  
How can you me a safe Instruction grant,  
Who know not half the Mercies I do want?  
What Stings of Conscience I within me feel,  
Or Apprehensions of approaching Hell;  
A Guide to Reason of a nobler Make  
Than what of humane Frailty does partake.  
How can your Reason be a Guide to mine,  
When both our Reason's equally divine;  
Thro equal Clouds and daily Errors pass,  
And differ only as improved by Grace.  
The Scripture only is our Reason's Guide,  
And all is Noise and Foolishness beside.  
Lay by the Law, and thy Foundation's gone,  
Thou art not built upon the Cornerstone.  
By Humane Power thou art wondrous great,  
But Civil Sanction proves a Human Cheat;  
The Church of Christ to endless Ages blest,  
Can of itself, without a Law, subsist.  
When Foes invade her, she has no Recourse  
To weak Auxili'ries of humane Force.  
Our blessed Saviour has no Power given  
To mortal Man to change the Laws of Heaven.  
Th' eternal Law does ev'ry where suffice  
To rule the Church, and to instruct the Wise.  
If you to mend it do a Power own,  
By the same Power you may pull it down:  
'Tis highest Arrogance to think that you  
In making Forms our Saviour can outdo.  
If only Law thy boasted Basis be;  
The Pagan Temples are as good as thee;  
The Law, thy Prayers does impose on Man,  
Imposes also the Turks Alcoran.  
When backed with Power your Articles you give,  
We do at best implicitly believe.  St. Paul's. 
I do not the eternal Law infringe,  
Nor do the Church's Constitution change;  
My Laws were never necessary meant,  
But left to Souls as things indifferent:  
The Modes of Worship are no part of Faith,  
I do believe but what the Scripture saith.  
But by the Power above 'tis left to me  
T' appoint what Modes there shall in Worship be.  
My Rites are all conform unto the Word,  
And heavenly Comfort to the Soul afford:  
I in my Choir transporting Raptures find,  
Seraphic Strains, and an exalted Mind.  
These are the Blessings I impose on you,  
For which, Apostate, I am deemed your Foe.  Salters-Hall. 
By things Indifferent I am betrayed;  
For still I find 'em necessary made:  
My Sons by these have often been undone,  
Their Souls beneath thy gilded Altars groan;  
Stifled in Prisons, robbed of Liberty,  
For Noncompliance to thy Foppery:  
Which (though to Forms Divine thou makest pretence)  
Have no alliance unto common Sense.  
Thy mimic Postures, and thy senseless Bows,  
Thy gilded Organs, and Theatrick Rows  
Of Fiddlers, Harpers, Singing-men, and Boys,  
Praising of God in a confounded noise;  
Can bawdy Ballads chant, or sacred Hymn,  
One day a Fiddler, next a Seraphim:  
He whose polluted Breath but t'other day,  
Charmed the lewd Audience at a bawdy Play,  
Sings with the same lewd Breath within thy Choir,  
And tunes his Voice to David's sacred Lyre.  
I peeped within thy Gates the other day;  
(For Novelty may lead the best astray)  
I viewed thy Altar, and the gilded Wood;  
Where in a Corner a strange Songster stood;  
A Goldfinch he appeared unto the Sight,  
His sacred Vestments were of red and white;  
But when he opened his unhallowed Throat,  
He seemed some croaking Raven by his Note:  
Prodigious Scarecrow on his Perch was reared,  
To warn the old, and make the young afraid;  
Lord! how with goggle Eyes he wonders at  
Some mighty something, is the Lord knows what;  
Extends his Arms, as Angels do their Wings,  
Seems to mount upward, as below he sings.  
This, this the Worship, which thy Laws ordain;  
Thus, thus the Sacred Name is took in vain:  
Thus Men their Reason and their Sense confound,  
And choose Religion by an empty Sound.  
Me Sounds alike do please; the croaking Frogs,  
Thy Nest of Whistles, or the Drove of Hogs.  
I teach my Son's Humility and Love,  
And all the Graces furnished from Above;  
Not frothy Notions, Philosophic Pride,  
But Christ for ruin'd Sinners crucified;  
How they unruly Passions should subdue,  
Discharge the Old man, and receive the New;  
I bid 'em still for Sufferings prepare,  
And be provided for the Christian War,  
'Gainst days of Persecution shall return,  
And they, as Saints of old, for Faith may burn:  
I bid 'em oft in Meditations be,  
And though thou hat'st my Children, pray for thee.  St. Paul's. 
My Sacred Rites have been approved by all.  
We Orthodox and holy Fathers call,  
And learned Prelates above all the rest,  
Lately deceased, and numbered with the Blessed,  
Whose holy Lives have demonstration given,  
They were the Darlings of the Church and Heaven.  
'Tis want of Knowledge makes you thus descent:  
You should, you should your Ignorance lament;  
Your native Sowrness and Stupidity,  
Two ill Companions for a Christian be:  
While you no harmless Ceremonies grant,  
You break the Windows to destroy the Paint;  
Because you find irregular the Porch,  
You are resolved to batter down the Church.  
Thus some crazed Mariner upon the Deep,  
To drown the Rats, does madly sink his Ship.  
You can not good by my Devotion feel,  
Nor will before my sacred Altars kneel,  
But for Preferment, or a wealthy Place,  
Interest usurps, and baffles conquered Grace;  
Your Sons assemble, and with mine receive  
The Sacrament, as I the same do give;  
Nought of their former Faith does then remain,  
They ride the Horse, but Interest guides the Rein.  Salters-Hall. 
On Fathers, Councils, Synods, or Decrees,  
I don't rely, or guide my Faith by these.  
Of human Race all our Forefathers were,  
Oft left the Good, and with the Bad did err:  
When ere their Doctrines do a Doubt afford,  
I bring it to the Touchstone of the Word.  
I ne'er could think the righteous God would give  
Power to one, for others to believe,  
Or that a Father had a right to be  
Judge for himself and his Posterity.  
My Sons thou slander'st, and call'st ignorant,  
Thy Sons, though learned, do all the Grace's want:  
My Sons too could their human Learning boast,  
But that in things of God and Faith is lost.  
Canst thou the Spirit, and the Father's Love,  
By Mathematic Demonstration prove,  
Why God Religion in this Land should place,  
And to so many Lands deny his Grace?  
In human Learning we no Profit find,  
For human things affect a human Mind;  
The things of God a nobler heat require  
Our Souls are touched with a Celestial Fire,  
Which though we can't conceive, we must admire.  
The blessed Martyrs in the days of old  
My sacred Truths and Doctrines sound did hold;  
Did the same Faith, and the same Worship teach,  
Alike they worshipped, and alike did preach:  
Their Learning was their Persecutors shame;  
But 'twas God's Spirit led 'em through the Flame.  
Nature oppressed by Nature, quits the Field,  
Without divine assistance soon does yield:  
My Sons too many, and alas too weak,  
Do at thy Altars their Preferments seek:  
Where Interest rules, the weaker Graces fall,  
And men corrupted bow the Knee to Baal,  
Side with the World for Profit and Estate,  
But these my Sons are illegitimate;  
Creep to my Altars 'mongst the numerous Throng,  
Not well instructed to continue long:  
But if God's Word, and Sacrament divine,  
Be thus abused, the fault is wholly thine:  
I blame my Sons who with thy Laws do close,  
But more I blame thee dost those Laws impose;  
Laws which the Rights of Nature do infringe,  
Corrupt the Faith, and Ordinances change;  
Thus altered, thus directed, are at best  
Only a secular and human Test:  
To ruin Faith you Votaries decoy;  
For thus to alter's wholly to destroy.  
While you in Power your vast Dominion place,  
You do the worth of Sacraments debase,  
The ill effects of a corrupted Grace.  
Thy Sons by Profits are grown wondrous great;  
Why are my Sons excluded from the State?  
Thy Sons grow proud, while mine you thus debar;  
For Pride and Power still consistent are:  
My Sons are all excluded from the Court,  
And must not serve a Monarch they support;  
A King they love, a Settlement they own,  
And did their best to bring him to the Throne;  
For him they always most devoutly pray,  
That Heaven would bless, and still direct his way:  
I teach my Infants his just Praise to sing,  
For him my Lute and trembling Harp I string,  
And all my Sons are loyal to the King.  
Thy Sons are disobedient to the Laws,  
And traitorously embark in a bad Cause,  
Would all our Rights and Liberties betray,  
Set up the Slave, and take the Man away:  
Some of thy Sons ingloriously contrived:  
To take that Life away by which they lived;  
With murderous Hands that sacred King to seize,  
Which saved our sinking Nations in distress.  
Their villainous Acts and their detested Fame  
Our City Gates do all around proclaim.  St. Paul's. 
How ill pronounced is sacred Loyalty,  
By thy inhuman, murderous Brood and Thee?  
What mighty Mischiefs heretofore 've done,  
Murdered the Father, and deposed the Son;  
You loyal prove only to gain by Stealth  
That hideous ill shaped thing, a Commonwealth,  
Which better with your Discipline might suit,  
More rigid far than mine, and absolute:  
My Sons were ever from Rebellion free,  
Much famed for their unspotted Loyalty,  
I the best Guardian to a Monarch's Throne,  
All my rebellious Children do disown:  
Thy Sons uneasy do promote our Wars,  
Bred up to Factions, and intestine Jars;  
Ill natured, insolent, corrupt and bad,  
Morose, perverse, and mischievously mad,  
Turbulent, proud, impatient in distress,  
Their Sins to God nor Man they will confess;  
Sprung from the Loins of Angels as they fell,  
Averse to Good, and easy to rebel;  
Bold Mariners who 'mongst the Rocks do steer,  
Always rejoicing when a Storm is near;  
On swelling Seas they most contentment find,  
Pleased with the Noise and Ruffling of the Wind:  
Bout'feu's that always light Dissention's Torch,  
Loading with Pasquil's still the harmless Church.  Salter's Hall. 

My Sons are gentle, and avoid Disputes,  
Contention-ill with their kind temper suits:  
Not haughty, puffed, nor insolently proud,  
Stoop to Superiors, humble to the Crowd:  
Reverence the Good, nor do the Bad despise,  
Pity the Fools, and do applaud the Wise,  
And Kindness show even to their Enemies:  
Yet never think the Laws of God provide  
The Saint should lay the Englishman aside.  
The Laws of Nature, and of common Sense  
Allow all Men to speak in their Defence.  
If thy Sons rudely will my Children use,  
Of Crimes unknown thus falsely will accuse,  
Their native Innocence they then must clear,  
Asses and Camels must hard Burdens bear;  
To Men of worth their Reputation's dear.  
'Gainst them industriously thine always toil,  
The very Dragons of thy Church revile;  
And each dull Weathercock thou mount'st aloft  
Has both at me and at my Children scoffed:  
Thy Dragon does declare thy Infants Breed,  
That all thy Sons are of the Serpent's Seed;  
The Church that's represented by a Dragon,  
Proves that its Head and chief Support is Dagon:  
Which lately has within a neighbouring Land  
Stumbled before the Ark, and lost his Hand.  
Each wretched Mortal such a Fate will find,  
Who is averse to the Eternal Mind.  
Thy Babel Spires, as they do upwards rise,  
May feel the Fury of the angry Skies:  
And the proud Towers now are grown so tall,  
May by loud Thunder and forked Lightning fall.   

Thou sayest my Sons are a rebellious Brood,  
And have their hands in Blood of Kings embrued:  
My Sons did ne'er molest a righteous State,  
But Tyranny they always grumbled at:  
'Tis not their fault if Kings do Tyrants grow,  
Prove their own Ruin and their Overthrow:  
They may their Actions and their Crimes condemn,  
But 'tis just Heaven alone does punish them.   St. Paul's. 
Thus for my Kindness I'm rewarded still,  
My Goodness thus excites you unto ill:  
Thy senseless Schism I always do lament,  
And dread thy Danger, which I would prevent:  
But good Advice and Arguments are vain,  
To Men perplexed with a distracted Brain.  
I would have drawn thee with the Cords of Love,  
The gentle Method of my Head above,  
But all my means do unsuccessful prove.  
When these kind Methods I have laid aside,  
I, what Correction can affect, have tried:  
But neither Love nor Wrath was understood,  
Doomed to be stubborn, and estranged to good!  
I all my Ends and good Intentions missed,  
Whilst thou in thy Perverseness didst persist:  
The most unwieldy, resty thing alive,  
A wayward Beast will neither lead nor drive:  
But yet to thee I open still my Gate,  
Hadst thou but Grace to enter in thereat.  
Beneath my Roof I have preserved a Room  
For thee and all thy Sons that thither come;  
Where a safe Shelter thou mayst always find  
From wasting Rains, and the tempestuous Wind.  Salter's Hall. 
Thus some great Lion of the Lybian Brood,  
Who long has reigned and ravaged all the Wood,  
The harmless Herds his ravenous Paws has killed,  
Whose murdered Carcases his Guts have filled:  
Grown old he can't so nimbly frisk about,  
Or if he's muzzled, or his Teeth beat out,  
Contracts his Paws, seems lovingly inclined,  
Feeds with the Does, and slumbers with the Hind.  
Tho now he can't, as once, so loudly roar,  
Nor be as cruel as he was before;  
His Mind's the same, and always bend to ill;  
Nature unchanged, he is a Lion still.  
How kindly now my Sons you do invite,  
Who know you're muzzled, and you cannot by't:  
My Sons supported by the selfsame Law,  
Which once exposed them to the Lion's Paw:  
Nor need they now to thee for Shelter come,  
Since Law secures 'em in their Faith at home:  
Beneath thy Shade no generous Plant will grow,  
Thy Shade's destructive as the Frost or Snow.  
The Beasts which o'er the flowery Pastures range  
May for thy Shadow sultry Beams exchange,  
But soon return to Herbage in the Field;  
Thy Shelter does no wholesome Pasture yield.  
FINIS.