While on the roof the howling tempest bears;
What further shall this feeble life sustain
And what shall clothe these shiv'ring limbs again.
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed?
And the fair body its investing weed?
Behold! and look away your low despair,
See the light tenants of the barren air:
To them nor stores, nor granaries belong,
Nought but the woodland, and the pleasing song;
Yet your kind heav'nly Father bends his eye