That can all crosses blessings make;
That finds himself ere he be lost,
And lose that found for virtue's sake.
Yea, blest is he, in life and death,
That fears not death nor loves this life;
That sets his will his wit beneath;
And hath continual peace in strife.
That naught observes but what preserves
His mind and body from offense;
That neither courts nor seasons serves,