Secure, when mortal comforts flee,

To find ten thousand worlds in Thee.

Doddridge.

Think’st thou the man whose mansions hold

The worldling’s pomp, and miser’s gold,

Obtains a richer prize

Than he, who, in his cot at rest,

Finds heavenly peace a willing guest,

And bears the promise in his breast

Of treasure in the skies.