The Miracle of _Gideons_ Fleece outdo.
Yes, they're resolv'd, in all their foes despight,
To wash their more than _Ethiop_ Treason White.

But now for Heads to manage the Design,
Fit Engineers to labour in this Mine.
For their own hands 'twere fatal to employ:
Should _Baal_ appear, it would _Baals_ Cause destroy.
Alas, should onely their own Trumpets sound
Their Innocence, the jealous Ears around
All Infidels would the loath'd Charmer fly,
And through the Angels voice the Fiend descry.
No, this last game wants a new plotting Set,
And _Israel_ only now can _Israel_ cheat.
In this Machine their profest Foes must move,
Whilst _Baal_ absconding sits in Clouds above,
From whence unseen he guides their bidden way:
For he may prompt, although he must not play.
This to effect a sort of Tools they find,
Devotion-Rovers, an Amphibious Kind,
Of no Religion, yet like Walls of Steel
Strong for the Altars where their Princes kneel.
Imperial not Celestial is their Test,
The Uppermost, indisputably Best.
They always in the golden Chariot rod,
Honour their Heav'n, and Interest their God.

Of these then subtil _Caleb_ none more Great,
_Caleb_ who shines where his lost Father set;
Got by that sire, who not content alone, }