Take but the humblest lilly of the…

Take but the humblest lilly of the field, And if our pride will to our reason yield, It must by sure comparison be shewn, That on the regal feat great David's son, Array'd in all his robes and types of pow'r, Shines with less glory, than that simple flow'r.

ENOUGH I think my present store, Nor do I ask of Heav'n for more, But thank the kindness of my God, For that small stock he has allow'd. Lo time still wastes, and wastes away, And moons arise but to decay; Then why, fond mortals, tell me why! Ye raise your costly domes so high? Why build ye palaces so great, With all th' extravagance of state, When ev'ry stone must fall away, And crumble still, and still decay? Why strive ye to enrich ye more, With ware from every foreign shore, When death stands knocking at your door?