Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my

beauty,

Since both of them wither and fade; But gain a good name by well doing my duty, This will scent like a rose when I'm dead.

WHY should I deprive my neighbour
Of his goods against his will?
Hands were made for honest labour,
Not to plunder or to steal.

'Tis a foolish self-deceiving,

By such tricks to hope for gain; All that's ever got by thieving, Turns to sorrow, shame, and pain.

Have not Eve and Adam taught us
Their sad profit to compute?

To what dismal state they brought us
When they stole forbidden fruit ?
Oft we see a young beginner
Practise little pilf'ring ways,
Till grown up a harden'd sinner;
Then the gallows ends his days.
Theft will not be always hidden,
Though we fancy none can spy;
When we take a thing forbidden,
God beholds it with his eye.
Guard my heart, O God of heaven,
Lest I covet what's not mine;
Lest I steal what is not given,
Guard my hands and heart from sin.

We tread them to dust, and a troop of them

dies,

Without our regard or concern;

Yet, wise as we are, if we went to their school, There's many a sluggard, and many a fool, Some lessons of wisdom might learn.

They wear not their time out in sleeping or play,

But gather up corn in a sun-shiny day,
And for winter they lay up their stores:
They manage their work in such regular
forms,

One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the storms,

And so brought their food within doors.

But I have less sense than a poor creeping

ant,

If I take not due care of the things I shall want,

Nor provide against dangers in time: When death or old age shall stare in my face, What a wretch shall I be at the end of my days,

If I trifle away all my prime!

Now, now, while my strength and my youth are in bloom,

Let me think what will serve me when sickness shall come,

And pray that my sins be forgiv'n:

Let me read in good books, and believe, and obey,

That when death turns me out of this cottage

of clay,

I may dwell in a palace in heav'n.

F

THOUGH I'm now in younger days,
Nor can tell what shall befall me,
I'll prepare for ev'ry place,

Where my growing age shall call me.

Should I e'er be rich or great,

Others shall partake my goodness;
I'll supply the poor with meat,
Never showing scorn nor rudeness.
Where I see the blind or lame,

Deaf or dumb, F'll kindly treat them; I deserve to feel the same,

If I mock, or hurt, or cheat them.

If I meet with railing tongues,
Why should I return them railing?
Since I best revenge my wrongs
By my patience never failing.