How happy is he born and taughtThat serveth not another,s will;Whose armour is his honest thought,And simple truth his utmost skill!
Whose passions not his masters are;Whose soul is still prepared for death,Untied unto the world by careOf public fame of private breath;
Who envies none that chance doth raise,Nor vice; who never understoodHow deepest wounds are given by praise;Nor rules of state, but rules of good;
Who hath his life from rumours freed;Whose conscience is his strong retreet;Whose state can neither flatterers feed,Nor ruin make oppressors great;
Who God doth late and early prayMore of his grace than gifts to lend;And entertains the harmless day With a religious book or friend;
This man is freed from servils bandsOf hope to rise or fear to fall:Lord of himself, though not of lamb,And having nothing, yet hath all.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment