Strew the Rude Crosses of Life O'er with Flowers

Thro' life's rugged voyage, each mortal must sail, Oft tossed by the billows of fortune about; This hour a calm, and the next one a gale, Makes all of the harbour of happiness doubt.

Yet amidst the hard troubles that mankind must bear, The gods have sent pleasures to sweeten our sours; For friendship and love may defy ev'ry care, And strew the rude crosses of life o'er with flowers.

Each man in his way must encounter rough seas, And buffet with perils and tempests of pain; And should fortune smile, so uncertain's the breeze, That man must still doubt if its meant to remain. Yet amidst the hard, &c.

The phantom ambition, oft leads us astray, Then leaves us bewilder'd quite lost in the dark; And often to folly, would leave us a prey, Did not reason throw in a luminous spark, Yet amidst the hard, &c.