are likewise truly blest:

  but oh! what crowds in ev'ry land,

  all wretched and forlorn,

  thro' weary life this lesson learn,

  that man was made to mourn.

  “many and sharp the num'rous ills

  inwoven with our frame!

  more pointed still we make ourselves,

  regret, remorse, and shame!

  and man, whose heav'n-erected face

  the smiles of love adorn,—

  man's inhumanity to man

  makes countless thousands mourn!

  “see yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight,

  so abject, mean, and vile,

  who begs a brother of the earth

  to give him leave to toil;

  and see his lordly fellow-worm

  the poor petition spurn,

  unmindful, tho' a weeping wife

  and helpless offspring mourn.

  “if i'm design'd yon lordling's slave,

  by nature's law design'd,

  why was an independent wish

  e'er planted in my mind?

  if not, why am i subject to

  his cruelty, or scorn?

  or why has man the will and pow'r

  to make his fellow mourn?

  “yet, let not this too much, my son,

  disturb thy youthful breast:

  this partial view of human-kind

  is surely not the last!

  the poor, oppressed, honest man

  had never, sure, been born,

  had there not been some recompense

  to comfort those that mourn!

  “o death! the poor man's dearest friend,

  the kindest and the best!

  welcome the hour my aged limbs

  are laid with thee at rest!

  the great, the wealthy fear thy blow

  from pomp and pleasure torn;

  but, oh! a blest relief for those

  that weary-laden mourn!”