That voice so like his father’s—rais’d in prayer,
When, with his young companions, gather’d there,
He’d kneel before the mercy seat, and fly
On wings of faith above this world of care.
Thus while to Heaven he turn’d his constant eye,
He heeded not, nor loved, the vain world’s flattery.
XIX.
That man is blest, who ne’er, with greedy ears,
Drank in the sounds of flatt’ry’s silver tongue;
He feels himself a man, who never cares