Classic Poem

No. X.

Though luscious Figs no more shall bloom and grow,
Nor bending Vines with juicy Clusters glow;
Though the fat Olive should our Hopes beguile,
And burst no more with usual Floods of Oil;
Though Barrenness should blast the fertile Field,
And Earth no more her vital Fatness yield;
Though Death should plunder every crouded Stall,
And Flocks and Herds in common Ruin fall;
Though meager Famine stalk across the Land,
And tear our Blessing from our grasping Hand
In Thee, my G OD , I'm blest, I'm happy still;
Nor should the Loss of these vain Tristes feel,
But at the gen'ral Devastation smile.
Abstract from these, Thou art sufficient Bliss,
But without Thee, how poor a Portion these!