26 «©» Tbe Hiftory of Burs 
Jnt, {or rather to the Bee,) thou Sluggard, 
and learn Wifdous. 
My drowfy Powers, why fleep ye fo? 
Awake my fluggifh Soul f 
Nothing has half thy Work to do, 
» Ket nothing's half fo dull. 
The little Ants for one poor Grain 
Labour, and tug, and ftrive ; 
- Yet we, who bave an Heavn ? bas 
_ How negligent we live! 
Good God! on what a flender Ti inde: 
Hang Everlafting Things ! 
T8 Eternal States of all the Dead, 
Upon: Life's feeble Strings. 
_ Infinite Soy, or endlefs Woe 
Attends on ev'ry Breath ; 
And yet how unconcern’d we go, 
Urpon the Brink of Death!* 
The Ant has no Guide to dire@ hep 
what to do; no Overfeer to obferve whether 
it’s done’ or no; nor Ruler to punifh her 
Wegligence and Mifcondu@ ; yet acts as 
if. it were fo. How doth this aggravate our 
Sloth and Improvidence, who have a Guide 
to fhew us what is Good; an’ Infpector of 
all our Actions ;, and’ a Tord: adhd Ruler to 
‘whom we are accountable? Shall: we then. 
bg ahi and inactive, and fuffer ourfélves to — 
be 
* Dr. Watts’s Hymns, Lib, 2. H. 25. 55. 


