CHEAP REPOSITORY. 
 
 TURN THE CARPET 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 TWO WEAVERS: 
 
 A NEW SONG, 
 
 I N A 
 
 Dialogue between Dick and John. 
 
 told by J. MARSHALL, 
 
 ^Printer to the Cheap Repository for Religious and Moral 
 T rafts) No. 17, Queen-Mreet, Cheapfide, and No. 4, Aider- 
 mary Church Yard; and R. WHITE, Piccadilly, London; 
 
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 PRICE ONE HALFPE N N Y, 
 
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 [ Entered at Stationers Hall. ] 
 
 \ 
 
 /V 
 
 ( 
 
TURN THE CARPET; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 TWO WEAVERS* 
 
 A NEW SONG, 
 
 I. 
 
 A S at their work two Weavers fat. 
 
 Beguiling time with friendly chat 3 
 They touch'd upon the price of meat, 
 So high, a Weaver fcarce could eat, 
 
 II. 
 
 What with* my brats and fickly wife, 
 Quoth Dick, I'm almoft tir'd of life; 
 So hard my work, fo poor my fare, 
 'Tis more than mortal roan can bear. 
 
 •*?•;• 
 
f 4 ) 
 
 HI. 
 How glorious is the rich man's ftate! 
 
 His houfe fo fine! his wealth To great 
 
 Heaven is unjuft )ou mull agree, 
 
 Why all to him, why none to me? 
 
 IV. 
 
 In fpite of what the Scripture teaches* 
 
 In fpite of all the Parfon preaches, 
 This world (indeed I've thought fo long) 
 Is rul'd, met'- nks, extremely wrong. 
 
 V. 
 Wheree'er I look, howe'er I range, 
 
 Tis all confus'd, and hard, and ftrangc; 
 
 The good are troubled and opprefs'd,- 
 
 Anel all the wicked are the blefs'd* 
 
 VI. 
 
 Quoth John, our ign'rance is the cauf* 
 
 Why thus we blame our Maker's laws; 
 Parts of his ways alone we know 3 
 Tis all that man can fee below. 
 
 
( 5 ) 
 
 VII. 
 See'ft thou that Carpet, not half done. 
 
 Which thou, dear Dick, haft well begun? 
 
 Behold the wild confufion there, 
 
 So rude the mafs it makes one flare! 
 
 VIII. 
 A ftranger, ign'rant of the trade, 
 
 Wou'd fay, no meaning's there convey'd; 
 
 For where's the middle, where's the border? 
 
 Thy Carpet now is all diforder. 
 
 IX. 
 Quoth Dick, my work is yet in bits. 
 
 But ftill in every part it fits ; 
 
 Befides, you reafon like a lout, 
 
 Why, man, that Carpet's infide $ut> • 
 
 X. 
 
 Says John, thou fay'ft the thing I mean, 
 
 And now I hope to cure thy fpleen; 
 
 This world, which clouds thy foul with doubt, 
 
 Ij but a Carpet injide out* 
 
 h 
 
( 6 ) 
 
 XL 
 As when we view the fe fh reds and ends* 
 
 We know not what the whole intends; 
 
 So when on eatth things look but odd, 
 
 They're working Ml fome fcheme of God, 
 
 Xlf . 
 
 No plan, no pattern can we trace, 
 
 AH wants proportion, truth, and grace $ 
 The motley mixture we deride, 
 Nor fee the beauteous upper fide. 
 
 XIII. 
 But when w T e reach that world of lights 
 
 And view thefe works of God aright;. 
 
 Then mail we fee the whole deiign, 
 
 And own the workman is divine. 
 
 XIV. 
 What now feem random (trokes, wijl the 
 
 AH order and defign appear ; 
 
 Then fhall we praife what here we fpurn'd^ 
 
 For then the Qarpct Jhall ht t L 
 
 Us 
 
( 7 ) 
 
 XV. 
 
 Thcu'r-t right, quoth Dick, no more I'll gwmble, 
 That this Tad world's fo ftrange a jumble; 
 My impious doubts are put to flight, 
 For my own Carpet fets me right. 
 
 ? M E E N D. 
 
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