Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore
Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon; 670
And put good works on board; and wait the wind
That shortly blows us into worlds unknown:
If unconsider’d too, a dreadful scene!
All should be prophets to themselves; foresee
Their future fate; their future fate foretaste;
This art would waste the bitterness of death.
The thought of death alone, the fear destroys.
A disaffection to that precious thought