27
"For all thy blessings thankfulness to wake,
Think of less cultur'd lands, less peaceful times;
Our coarsest fare, when sparingly we take,
'Tis luxury, compar'd with other climes.
28
"Think of the poor Greenlanders' dismal caves,
Where thro' their long, long Night they buried lie;
Or the more wretched lands where hapless slaves
Hopelessly toil beneath the fervid Sky.