My Lodging Is On The Cold Ground,

The Luxury Of Doing Good Surpasses Every Other Personal Enjoyment.

Here Shock, The Pride Of All His Kind, Is Laid, Who Fawned Like Man, But Ne'er Like Man Betrayed.

Fair Is The Marigold, For Pottage Meet.

What Will Not Luxury Taste? Earth, Sea, And Air, Are Daily Ransack'd For The Bill Of Fare. Blood Stuffed In Skins Is British Christians' Food, And France Robs Marshes Of The Croaking Brood.

Shall Ignorance Of Good And Ill Dare To Direct The Eternal Will? Seek Virtue, And Of That Possest, To Providence Resign The Rest.