But What More Oft In Nations Grown

Eye Me, Blest Providence, And Square My Trial To My Proportion'd Strength.

Vain Wisdom All, And False Philosophy.

And I Will Place Within Them As A Guide My Umpire Conscience, Whom If They Will Hear Light After Light Well Used They Shall Attain, And To The End Persisting, Safe Arrive.

Hope Elevates, And Joy Brightens His Crest.

Is It True, O Christ In Heaven, That The Highest Suffer The Most? That The Strongest Wander Furthest And Most Hopelessly Are Lost? That The Mark Of Rank In Nature Is Capacity For Pain? That The Anguish Of The Singer Makes The Sweetness Of The Strain?