This Indian weed now wither'd quite,
'Tho' green at noon, cut down at night,
Shows
thy decay;
All
flesh is hay.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
The pipe so lily-like and weak,
Does thus thy mortal state bespeak.
Thou
art ev'n such,
Gone
with a touch.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
And when the smoke ascends on high,
Then thou behold'st the vanity
Of
worldly stuff,
Gone
with a puff.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
And when the pipe grows foul within,
Think on thy soul defil'd with sin;
For
then the fire,
It does
require.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
And seest the ashes cast away;
Then to thyself thou mayest say
That to
the dust
Return
thou must.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
Was this small plant for thee cut down?
So was the plant of great renown;
Which
mercy sends
For
nobler ends.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
Doth juice medicinal proceed
From such a naughty foreign weed?
Then
what's the pow'r
Of
Jesse's flow'r?
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
The promise, like the pipe, inlays,
And by the mouth of faith conveys
What
virtue flows
From
Sharon's rose.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
In vain th' unlighted pipe you blow;
Your pains in inward means are so,
'Till
heav'nly fire
Thy heart
inspire.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
The smoke, like burning incense tow'rs
So should a praying heart of yours,
With
ardent cries,
Surmount
the skies.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
-Ralph Erskine
