God's sight of providence is keener than men's eyes.

God's sight of providence is keener than men's eyes. By seeing with His sight, thou’lt find all thou wilt prize. An infant, that can neither grasp nor walk as yet, Takes seat upon his father's neck, and runs. Sweet pet. 25 Some seasons past, he scarcely gains some strength of limb; When sorrow fastens on him;-sharp, and ghastly grim. The hearts of men, before they gain or power or wealth, Decline away from duty, pleasures seek by stealth.

And since by God's decree from paradise they're rent, They prisoners become to rage, lust, discontent. We are the household of that Householder, whose word Thus spake: 'Creation's all as children of the Lord.' 1 He that doth send the fattening rain upon the earth, In mercy, too, can feed His creatures from their birth." 30 The lion thus replied: "’Tis true. But still, the Lord A ladder sets before our feet to be explor’d. Step after step we have to mount unto the roof.

Th’ idea of compulsion's quite devoid of proof. Two feet thou hast. Then why thyself hold to be lame? Two hands also. Why maimed account thyself in name? Whene’er a master puts a spade in hand of slave, He has no need to speak; the act expression gave. Our hands just so are given; spades they are to us. Think out this problem well; it needs not any fuss. 35 When thou hast laid this unction to thy soul amain, In duty's path to lay down life thou’lt count as gain.

Those symbols indices are, whence are secrets known. Responsibility's from thee withdrawn; work shown. Thou’rt surely burdened. Borne also most truly art. Recipient; hence accepted;-fully on His part. Recipient be of God's command; content thou’lt be. Seek unto Him; and to Him joined thyself thou’lt see. To strive to give thanks power provides this to perform. Allege compulsion. Gratitude's ground thou’lt deform. 40 Thanks for thy powers the power of thanks tenfold expands.

Take favour for compulsion. Power will leave thy hands. Compulsion dost affirm? That's sleeping by the way. Go not to sleep until thou’st fairly won the day. Sleep not, Compulsionist? Thou man, with folly rife Until thou reach the goal, the fruitful Tree of Life. The cool breeze there will rustle through its leaves profuse, Each moment scattering fruits for food and future use. Compulsion's creed is sleep among the highwaymen; 45 Unseasonable bird is mercilessly slain.

1 If thou at God's signs carp and peek, so finding fault, Though man thou count thyself, ’tis womanlike assault.