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.