heretical, liturgy, now
compiling by my friend Homo Humanus, for the use of a certain snug
congregation of Utopian Rabelaesian Christians, no matter where
assembled.

The form then of the benediction before eating has its beauty at
a poor man's table, or at the simple and unprovocative repasts of
children. It is here that the grace becomes exceedingly graceful.
The indigent man, who hardly knows whether he shall have a meal the
next day or not, sits down to his fare with a present sense of the
blessing, which can be but feebly acted by the rich, into whose
minds the conception of wanting a dinner could never, but by some
extreme theory, have entered. The proper end of food--the animal
sustenance--is barely contemplated by them. The poor man's bread is
his daily bread, literally his bread for the day. Their courses are
perennial.

Again, the plainest diet seems the fittest to be preceded by the
grace. That which is least stimulative to appetite, leaves the mind
most free for foreign considerations. A man may feel thankful,
heartily thankful, over a dish of plain mutton with turnips, and have
leisure to reflect upon the ordinance and institution of eating;
when he shall confess a perturbation o f mind, inconsistent with the
purposes of the grace, at the presence of venison or turtle. When I
have sate (a _rarus hospes_) at rich men's tables, with the savoury
soup and messes steaming up the nostrils, and moistening the lips
of the guests with desire and a distracted choice, I have felt the
introduction of that ceremony to be unseasonable. With the ravenous
orgasm upon you, it seems impertinent to interpose a religious
sentiment. It is a confusion of purpose to mutter out praises from a
mouth that waters. The heats of epicurism put out the gentle flame of
devotion. The incense which rises round is pagan, and the belly-god
intercepts it for his own. The very excess of the provision beyond the
needs, takes away all sense of proportion between the end and means.
The giver is veiled by his gifts. You are startled at the injustice
of returning thanks--for what?--for having too much, while so many
starve. It is to praise the Gods amiss.

I have observed this awkwardness felt, scarce consciously perhaps,
by the good man who says the grace. I have seen it in clergymen and
others--a sort of shame--a sense of the co-presence of circumstances
which unhallow the blessing. After a devotional tone put on for a few
seconds, how rapidl