There Is No Mind So Weak And

See Time Has Touched Me Gently In His Race, And Left No Odious Furrows In My Face.

Temp'rate In Every Place--abroad, At Home, Thence Will Applause, And Hence Will Profit Come; And Health From Either--he In Time Prepares For Sickness, Age, And Their Attendant Cares.

Say, Ye Oppress'd By Some Fantastic Woes, Some Jarring Nerve That Baffles Your Repose; Who Press The Downy Couch, While Slaves Advance With Timid Eye, To Read The Distant Glance; Who With Sad Prayers The Weary Doctor Tease, To Name The Nameless Ever-new Disease; Who With Mock Patience Dire Complaints Endure, Which Real Pain And That Alone Can Cure; How Would Ye Bear In Real Pain To Lie, Despised, Neglected, Left Alone To Die? How Would Ye Bear To Draw Your Latest Breath, Where All That's Wretched Paves The Way For Death?

Blest Be The Gracious Power, Who Taught Mankind To Stamp A Lasting Image Of The Mind! Beasts May Convey, And Tuneful Birds May Sing, Their Mutual Feelings, In The Opening Spring; But Man Alone Has Skill And Power To Send The Heart's Warm Dictates To The Distant Friend; 'tis His Alone To Please, Instruct, Advise Ages Remote, And Nations Yet To Rise.

From Powerful Causes Spring The Empiric's Gains, Man's Love Of Life, His Weakness, And His Pains; These First Induce Him The Vile Trash To Try, Then Lend His Name, That Other Men May Buy.