The fear of Hell, or aiming to be blest, Savors too much of private interest. This moved not Moses, nor the zealous Paul, Who for their friends abandoned soul and all.
And keeps the palace of the soul.
When religion doth with virtue join, it makes a hero like an angel shine.
Give us enough but with a sparing hand.
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more!
And as pale sickness does invade, Your frailer part, the breaches made, In that fair lodging still more clear, Make the bright guest, your soul, appear.