A Battle! A Battle! - 4
What can a mortal wish for more?
Henceforth let two and two make six,
Or any number you shall fix:
Let no one contradict you, when
You say in four are units ten;
For plain it is, and sure’s a gun,
Four contain four, three, two and one.
Of human pride, tho’ it may favour,
Let us exert our own endeavour;
Nor like our Fathers stand like posts,
And leave all to the Lord of Hosts:
Our happiness for ought we know,
May be, durante placito.
And he may think he’s done enough,
Nor longer will stand by the stuff;
Therefore for future, be it known,
We’ll not confide in God alone,
But shew the world that we inherit
The arm of flesh, with sword and spirit.
When we begin, we’ll on pell mell,
And drive the PAXTON dogs to h-ll.
But, hark! the horn sounds an express
From B-, from R-, from H-, and S-.
The Paxton boys are coming down,
To kill us all, and burn the town.
To arms, to arms with one accord,
The sword of Quakers and the Lord!
Let no one stand with hands in pocket,
Each Meeting door—quick, quick unlock it!
Be all our forces hither led,
With beating drums, and colours spread.
Let trumpets sound, and hautboys play,
And set the battle in array;
Nor absent be the pipe and tabor,
To cheat your hearts, and ease your labo’r:
