Decree of God was thus a cloud the sun to veil. A lion, dragon, were a mouse beneath that bale. When judgment’s needed, should I not detect a snare, Not I alone am blind, my weakness others share. Blest he, whose steadfast feet have never gone astray! Who waywardness has shunned, and taught his tongue to pray! 375 Should God’s decree encompass thee with blackest night, The same decree will readily help set thee right. Should Providence at times thy life to menace seem, ’Twas Providence that gave it, can prolong its gleam. Should life’s events appear to threaten every way, God can in heaven prepare a home for thee to stay. What ’tis thou tremblest at, a special favour count, Designed to bring thee safe to Zion’s holy mount. And now we turn again from morals,--they’ve no end,— To see how fares it with our lion and his friend. 380 They came to where the well was. Here the lion saw The hare his pace had slackened, backward ’gan to draw. At this he remonstrated: “What art thou about! Come forward still. The enemy we must find out.” The hare replied: “I have no power to move a foot. From fear I faint. I tremble; courage has ebbed out. Thou seest how pale my face; like ashes I’ve become; An indication sure of fear, most troublesome. God hath the countenance the mind’s true index named. The adept keeps his eye on countenance enchained. 385 A face’s colour tell-tale is, like tinkling bell. A horse’s neigh of other steeds’ approach will tell. A sound from anything attention brings to pass; ’Tis thus we know the creak of door from bray of ass. The Prophet said, no point of character t’ asperse: ‘Enigma is a man until he’s heard converse.’ The colour in man’s face makes known how stands the heart. Compassion take on me; thy sympathy impart. Enjoyments sensual give man a rosy face; The fame of pale-faced men reports good sense and grace. 390 I feel within me what makes all my joints seem weak; It’s borne away my colour, strength, and power to speak. It casts down whomsoe’er it chances to attack; As tempest uproots trees it meets upon its track. I’m subjected to that by which both men and beasts Are turned to stocks and stones;--to say the very least. They are but parts; that thing a universal is. It makes men’s faces pale; gives ashiness where ’tis; As long as nature mournful is, or full of glee;— As long as fields now verdant, naked then we see. 395 The sun each morning rises, joying in his course; At eve sinks down again, and goes from bad to worse. The planets circulating, each within its sphere, Are subject to _immersion_ when the sun they near. The moon in splendour far excels each tiny star. But near its change it dwindles almost to a hair.