Or Bid The Soul Of

For Other Things Mild Heav'n A Time Ordains, And Disapproves That Care, Though Wise In Show, That With Superfluous Burden Loads The Day, And When God Sends A Cheerful Hour, Refrains.

So Much I Feel My Genial Spirits Droop, My Hopes All Flat, Nature Within Me Seems In Her Functions Weary Of Herself.

How Gladly Would I Meet Mortality, My Sentence, And Be Earth In Sensible! How Glad Would Lay Me Down, As In My Mother's Lap! There I Should Rest, And Sleep Secure.

Law Can Discover Sin, But Not Remove, Save By Those Shadowy Expiations Weak.

The Rising World Of Waters Dark And Deep.