1 Deluded souls! who think to find
A silid bliss below:
Bliss! the fair flower of Paradise,
On earth can never grow.

2 See how the foolish wretch is pleas'd,
T' increase his wordly store;
Too scanty now he finds his barns,
And covets room for more.

3 "What shall I do?" distrest he cries,
"This scheme will I pursue:
"My scanty barns shall now come down,
"I'll build them large and new."

4 "Here will I lay my fruits, and bid
"My soul to take tis ease:
"Eat, drink, be glad, my lasting store
"Shall give what joys I please."

5 Scarce had he spoke, when lo! from heaven
The Almighty made reply:
"For whom dost thou provide, thou fool?
"This night thyself shall die."

6 Teach me, my God, all earthly joys
Are but an empty dream;
And may I seek my bliss alone,
In thee the good supreme!