A Short Retirement Urges A

Heaven Is As The Book Of God Before Thee Set, Wherein To Read His Wondrous Works.

Yet I Argue Not Against Heav'n's Hand Or Will, Nor Bate A Jot Of Heart Or Hope; But Still Bear Up And Steer Right Onward.

For The Air Of Youth, Hopeful And Cheerful, In Thy Blood Will Reign A Melancholy Damp Of Cold And Dry To Weigh Thy Spirits Down, And Last Consume The Balm Of Life.

Tower'd Cities Please Us Then, And The Busy Hum Of Men.

The Starry Cope Of Heaven.