Thou giv’st him life, with liberty.
Yet not to earth’s contracted spot,
Thy boundless power can be confin’d;
For our’s would be the hardest lot,
Should all our views be here resign’d.
If in this life was all our hope,
Then wretched were, indeed, our doom;
But happy we, that thou can’st ope
A realm of bliss beyond the tomb.
When earth’s short pilgrimage is o’er,