Reader! if firm resolve inspired thy soul,
No more from Virtue's sacred bound to stray,
Yet fierce temptation, with its strong control,
Again impelled to error's devious way;
If thou didst mourn in vain, for follies past,
Then weakly yield to vanity again,
Find every boasted motive fail at last,
And imperfections all thine actions stain;
Oh! pause, and contemplate a kindred mind,
And then implore of Heaven, assisting might,
That thou may'st Wisdom's narrow boundary find.
And sovereign mercy guide thy steps aright.
Mourn not for her, whose unreluctant heart
'Neath this green turf hath found a refuge lone,
Nor at th' truthful admonition start.
That tells such bed shall shortly be thine own.
Farewell! To Wisdom consecrate thy days,—
But ye, who strive with eager hands to gain
Earth's glittering store and mortal's fitful praise,
Approach, and on my tombstone read, they're vain.
