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What blessings thy free bounty gives,

Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives,
T' enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think thee Lord alone of man,

When thousand worlds are round:

Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Presume thy bolts to throw,

And deal damnation round the land,
On each I judge thy foe.

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Mean

Mean though I am, not wholly so,

Since quicken'd by thy breath ;

Oh lead me wheresoe'er I go,

Through this day's life or death!

This day, be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun,

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Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not,
And let thy will be done.

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Whose altar, earth, sea, skies!

One chorus let all being raise !
All nature's incense rise!

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MORAL ESSAYS,

IN FOUR EPISTLES

TO SEVERAL PERSONS.

Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se
Impediat verbis lassis onerantibus aures :
Et sermone opus est modo tristi, sæpe jocoso,
Defendente vicem modo Rhetoris atque Poetæ
Interdum urbani, parcentis viribus, atque
Extenuantis eas consultò.

HOR.

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