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30

EMPLOYMENT.

From the same.

The flower now blooms, now hangs its head;
So fleets my short-lived day!
O, may my useful fragrance spread
Before I fade away!
What though the throne I then should fill
At the great day, were mine?
The sweetness, which Thy gracious skill
Diffused, its praise were Thine.
Let me not languish, then, and spend
A life dead to Thy praise,
As is the dust to which I tend
By sure though slow decays!
All things are busy round but I:
Nor honey with the bees,
Nor scent with flowers, nor husbandry
Have I to water these.
I am no link of Thy great chain,
A cumbrous, fruitless weed:
O, mend my music! Give one strain
Even to my useless reed!