Reflections in Sickness

Till now, my soul, this earthly load Was healthy, sound and strong; My even spirits gently flow'd, Smooth roll'd life's tide along.

My eyes with ardent brightness shone, My cheeks gay roses grac'd, My nerves retain'd their wonted tone, With active vigor brac'd.

But now how chang'd my fabric reels, Scarce equal to the weight; My heart with rapid motion feels Each pulse disorder'd beat.

Dim roll my eyes, my visage fades, My hollow cheeks decay; Each part the dire disease invades, And nature pines away.

To day the gaudy flower we view, In blooming beauty rise, To-morrow touch'd with baneful dew, It languishes and dies.

Turn then my soul thy thoughts to God, Who made this brittle frame; For life depends upon his nod, And health is in his name.

'Tis he, he only can restrain My blood's impetuous tide; He who impell'd th' encroaching main, And bade its rage subside.

He can resume whose will be done, That breath his bounty gave; Nor ask I if my sands are run, One moment from the grave.

My sated taste dull pleasure palls, And all my fancy cloys, Why should I dread the voice that calls To solid endless joys?