To Justify God's Ways To Man.

On Wenlock Edge The Wood's In Trouble;his Forest Fleece The Wrekin Heaves;the Wind It Plies The Saplings Double, And Thick On Severn Snow The Leaves.

His Folly Has Not Fellow Beneath The Blue Of Day That Gives To Man Or Woman His Heart And Soul Away.

They Put Arsenic In His Meat And Stared Aghast To Watch Him Eat; They Poured Strychnine In His Cup And Shook To See Him Drink It Up.

You Smile Upon Your Friend To-day, To-day His Ills Are Over; You Hearken To The Lover's Say, And Happy Is The Lover. 'tis Late To Hearken, Late To Smile, But Better Late Than Never: I Shall Have Lived A Little While Before I Die For Ever.

Oh When I Was In Love With You, Then I Was Clean And Brave, And Miles Around The Wonder Grew How Well Did I Behave. And Now The Fancy Passes By, And Nothing Will Remain, And Miles Around They'll Say That I Am Quite Myself Again.