What all the comeliness of human schemes 425
For living, dying tranquilly?—what!—dreams!
Impostors! swallowed by the Aaron’s rod
Of that one simple axiom—“trust in God.”
In His pure worship even sorrow heals,
And the heart lightens with the pang it feels; 430
Unlike the trifles that our minds employ,
Ending in sorrow, though begun in joy,
Religion pours a balm with ev’ry tear,
And reaps her golden harvest even here!