And calmly down the ever flowing tide
Of this short life, in humble silence glide.
I’m weary of the never ending chase
After the world’s esteem—its pomp and pride!
Then grant me, Heaven! some secret hiding place,
Till I shall sweetly rest—asleep in death’s embrace.
XXII.
O, let me feel the almost heavenly bliss—
The calm contentment of humility!
There never was a plainer truth than this;