Far from mortal cares retreating

Oh that it were my chief delight To do the things I ought! Then let me try with all my might To mind what I am taught.

I thank the goodness and the grace Which on my birth have smiled, And made me in these Christian days, A happy English child.

Are we not children, all of us?

Though man a thinking being is defined, Few use the grand prerogative of mind. How few think justly of the thinking few! How many never think, who think they do!

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are, Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky!

But see! the pains begin to fly; Tho’ Venus bled she could not die: See the new phœnix point her eyes, And lovelier from her ashes rise.