Think not, when all your scanty stores afford, Is spread at once upon the sparing board; Think not, when worn the homely robe appears, While on the roof the howling tempest bears; What further shall this feeble life sustain And what shall clothe these shiv'ring limbs again. Say, does not life its nourishment exceed? And the fair body its investing weed? Behold! and look away your low despair, See the light tenants of the barren air: To them nor stores, nor granaries belong, Nought but the woodland, and the pleasing song; Yet your kind heav'nly Father bends his eye On the least wing that flits along the sky. To him, they sing when Spring renews the plain; To him, they cry in Winter's pinching reign; Nor is their music, nor their plaint in vain: He hears the gay, and the distressful call, And with unsparing bounty fills them all. Observe the rising lily's snowy grace; Observe the various vegetable race; They neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow; Yet see how warm they blush, how bright they glow! What regal vestments can with them compare! What King so shining, or what queen so fair! If ceaseless thus the fowls of heav'n he feeds, If o'er the fields such lucid robes he spreads; will he not care for you, ye faithless say! Is he unwise? or are ye less than they? _London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ N^o. 13. [Illustration] THE PRODIGAL. Watts.