BOOKOFOLD-WORLDGARDENS 



The fairest And both dost make with thy laborious hand) 



Thy noble, innocent delight: 

 And in thy virtuous wife, where thou again dost 



meet 



Both pleasures more refin'd and sweet; 

 The fairest garden in her looks, 

 And in her mind the wisest books. 

 Oh, who would change these soft, yet solid 



joys, 



For empty shows, and senseless noise ! 

 And all which rank ambition breeds, 

 Which seem such beauteous flowers, and are 

 such poisonous weeds ? 



When God did man to His own likeness make, 



As much as clay, though of the purest kind, 

 By the great potter's art refin'd, 

 Could the divine impression take, 

 He thought it fit to place him, where 

 A kind of heaven too did appear, 



As far as earth could such a likeness bear : 

 That man no happiness might want, 



Which earth to her first master could afford, 

 He did a garden for him plant 



By the quick hand of His omnipotent word. 



