Where she in peace shall pray and sing and sleep,
}
140
Save when for thee she mourns, thou wicked, wandering sheep!
When youth is fall'n, there's hope the young may rise,
But fallen age for ever hopeless lies:
Torn up by storms and placed in earth once more,
The younger tree may sun and soil restore;
But when the old and sapless trunk lies low,
No care or soil can former life bestow;