Classic Poem

A Meditation on Job, Chap. 5. Verse 7

Inscrib'd to Mrs. G ERTRUDE P HILIPS .

A LAS ! poor animated Clay,
Why dost thou thus thy Peace betray?
There's nothing here deserves thy Care,
One Hour we hope, the next despair:
Vain Ambition, sordid Treasure,
Anxious Thoughts, and worldly Pleasure,
Make us present Objects choose,
And care to get, and fear to lose.

But these will prove, when understood,
Mistaken Elements of Good:
The only Center of our Love,
Our Summum Bonum dwells above:
The great Creator of the Whole,
Our God, our Guide, our final End:
And ev'ry Motion of the Soul
To him alone should tend.
By meditating on his Ways,
Our wretched Souls immers'd we raise,
And with our mental Eyes behold,
Delights, which are not to be told.
In Contemplation of that State,
We future Joys anticipate;
And while on Earth, a Share possess
Of intellectual Happiness.

Thus shall we by Experience find,
A silent Harbour in the Mind,
To be the most secure Retreat,
From the Oppression of the Great,
And all Misfortunes that we meet.

As heavy Bodies downward tend,
And light Ones nat'rally ascend:
As Fire mounts up thro' liquid Air,
So sure are Mortals born to Care.English