wees the rapid moments, bids them part,

nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear.

i thank thee, author of this opening day!

thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies!

riches denied, thy boon was purer joys—

what wealth could never give nor take away!

yete, thou child of poverty and care,

the mite high heav'n bestow'd, that mite with thee i'll share.