Lines Addressed To Rev. D--- G---, B.A. Poem by Janet Hamilton

My friend, late found, yet not the less approved,
Thy zealous labours in the work beloved
Of earnest teaching-'midst thy toils and pains
A power Divine inspires thee and sustains.
With thy credentials from the court of Heaven,
As Christ's ambassador, to thee was given,
The untrammel'd mind that will not stoop or palter
Within the sacred precincts of the altar;
Or heap with sordid flatteries the shrine
Of Mammon at the cost of truth Divine;
Reproving and exhorting with authority,
Though still preferment leaves thee a minority.
In logical deductions apt and clear;
On chosen themes illustrative and near;
Powerful in argument, sound in the faith;
Thy motto, guide, and rule, thus Scripture saith,
'Who winneth souls is wise.' To this blest end
May all thy wishes and thy labours tend;
And when thy hearers ask for living bread,
Thou wilt not, dost not, give them stones instead.
For this for thee thy friend shall ever pray,
Respectfully and truly thine for aye.