For unto Thee he trusts, Who hearest us when we pray.
A falcon, when he sits upon a royal fist,
No longer stoops to carrion, wherewith to subsist.
And so from gnat to elephant like state we find,
They all depend on God, the best of feeders’ kind.”50
“All those anxieties that fall on us like darts,
Are but the vapours, tempests, of our human hearts.
Those cares are like a sickle, made to cut us down.
This is a fact, though we are slow the truth to own.
Our ev’ry suffering, here, a portion is of death.