With fortitude, or harsh, or sweet;
If fortune blows in prosp’rous gales,
Or adverse wind his skiff assails,
Still he is happy, pleas’d, content,
With what kind heav’n, not him hath sent;
| Nor pines with grief, himself alone Bears all the shock of fortune’s frown, Untouch’d, resign’d, God’s will his own: |
In patience tastes a greater joy,
Than all the world’s variety.
Religion doth a good afford,
To all, with gladsome pleasure stor’d,