O Thou, The Drink Of Gods And

God Doth Not Promise Here To Man That Hewill Free Him Quickly From His Misery;but In His Own Time, And When He Thinks Fit,then He Will Give A Happy End To It.

Learn This Of Me, Where'er Thy Lot Doth Fall, Short Lot, Or Not, To Be Content With All.

A Sweet Disorder In The Dress Kindles In Clothes A Wantonness A Lawn About The Shoulders Thrown Into A Fine Distraction.

Rise And Put On Your Foliage, And Be Seen To Come Forth, Like The Springtime, Fresh And Green

Drink Wine, And Live Here Blitheful While Ye May; The Morrow's Life Too Late Is; Live To-day.