The Pulley

WHEN God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, ‘Let us,’ said He, ‘pour on him all we can; Let the world’s riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span.’

So strength first made a way, Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour pleasure; When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that, alone of all His treasure, Rest in the bottom lay.

‘For if I should,’ said He, ‘Bestow this jewel also on My creature, He would adore My gifts instead of Me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature: So both should losers be.

‘Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness; Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to My breast.’