After that Civil Broils the Land destroy'd:
Plenty and Peace attended on his Reign,
And _Solomon_'s Golden days return'd again;
When the Old _Canaanites_, who there did lurk,
Began to find both God and King new Work:
For _Amazia_, tho' he God did love,
Had not cast out _Baal_'s Priests, and cut down every Grove.
Too oft Religion's made pretence for Sin,
About it in all Ages Strife has been;
But Int'rest, which at bottom doth remain,
Which still converts all Godliness to Gain,
What e'er Pretence is made, is the true Cause,
That moves the Priest, and like the Load-stone draws.
The _Canaanites_ of Old that Land possess'd,
And long therein Idolatry profess'd;
Till Sins of Priests, and of the Common Rout,
Caus'd God and his good Kings to cast them out.
Their Idols were pull'd down, their Groves destroy'd,
Strict Laws against them, and their Worship made.
The Heathen Priests were banish'd from the Land
Of _Baal_, no Temple suffer'd was to stand;
And all Succeeding Kings made it their Care,
They should no more rear up their Altars there.
If some mild Kings did wink at their Abode,
They to the _Jews_ still prov'd a Pricking-goad:
Growing more bold, they penal Laws defy'd,
And like tormenting Thorns, stuck in their Side.
The busy Priests had lost their gainful Trade,
Revenge and Malice do then Hearts invade;
And since by Force they can't themselves restore,