But this book, by Homer and his disciples sung,
What is it called but Chance, by ancients,
And by us Christians named Providence instead.
Now in Chance there can no science be,
Or why should it be called by them Chance—
And things uncertain, who knows in advance?
If all depends upon the fixed decree,
Of Him who does all things, and nothing does unwisely.
How should we read his will,
And know that which from us he would conceal?