Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.