The man who keeps the golden mean

The man who keeps the golden mean Where raging storms are seldom seen, Avoids the dang'rous rocks and pools, That fright the wise, and swallow fools. THE limits of our life, how like a shade— A passing cloud—our vain existence flies! Yet all our boundless hopes, our future views, For endless ages, on this narrow span, This little rivulet of time, depend. And Oh! how fast the gliding current flows! Nothing retards its everlasting course; Ev'n now our hasty moments pass away, Forever, O forever are they gone! We die with every breath; no calling back The nicest point of all our vain duration; 'Tis past beyond retrieve!—but Oh! there rest Eternal things on this important point: This span of life, this short allotted span, Is all we have to manage for the stake Of an immortal soul; the glorious weight Of Heav'nly crowns and kingdoms are suspended, And Oh!—if lost, can never be recall'd!