And friend received with thumps upon the back.

Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed: Who does the best his circumstance allows Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.

The booby father craves a booby son, And by Heaven's blessing thinks himself undone.

Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes.

'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven.

Midway from Nothing to the Deity!

Praise, more divine than prayer; prayer points our ready path to heaven; praise is already there.