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Poem	The punishment of luxury and intemperance. When Isr'el sins, the Lord reproves And fills their hearts with dread; Yet he forgives the men he loves, And sends them heav'nly bread. He fed them with a lib'ral hand, And made his treasures known; He gave the midnight clouds command To pour provision down. The manna, like a morning shower, Lay thick around their feet The corn of heav'n, so light, so pure, As though 'twere angels' meat. But they in murm'ring language said, "Manna is all our feast; We loathe this light, this airy bread; We must have flesh to taste." "Ye shall have flesh to please your lust," The Lord in wrath replied, And sent them quails like sand or dust, Heaped up from side to side. He gave them all their own desire, And greedy as they fed, His vengeance burnt with secret fire, And smote the rebels dead. When some were slain, the rest returned And sought the Lord with tears; Under the rod they feared and mourned, But soon forgot their fears. Oft he chastised and still forgave, Till, by his gracious hand, The nation he resolved to save Possessed the promised land.
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