The Heart Is A Small Thing, But

O Who Would Trust This World, Or Prize What's In It, That Gives And Takes, And Chops And Changes, Ev'ry Minute?

Borrow Neither Money Nor Time From Your Neighbor; Both Are Of Equal Value.

For Trash And Toys, And Grief-engend'ring Joys, What Torment Seems Too Sharp For Flesh And Blood; What Bitter Pills, Compos'd Of Real Ills, Men Swallow Down To Purchase One False Good!

Our God And Souldiers We Alike Adore,evn At The Brink Of Danger; Not Before:after Deliverance, Both Alike Required;our Gods Forgotten, And Our Souldiers Slighted.

Yet, Sluggard, Wake, And Gull Thy Soul No More With Earth's False Pleasures, And The World's Delight, Whose Fruit Is Fair And Pleasing To The Sight, But Sour In Taste, False As The Putrid Core: Thy Flaring Glass Is Gems At Her Half Light; She Makes Thee Seeming Rich, But Truly Poor: She Boasts A Kernel, And Bestows A Shell; Performs An Inch Of Her Fair-promis'd Ell: Her Words Protest A Heav'n; Her Works Produce A Hell.