When all the joy of living has gone out
Its failing flame by earth winds blown about
Until it wanes and wavers and is gone
The oil exhausted which it fed upon
Seek not the consolations of Man Kind
Nor trust to remedies the world may find.
Be like a little child let out to place
Yield up your doubtful wisdom for a day
And give the Hand Invisible your own
Then let it lead you where it will alone
So shall you find a joy such as endures
Led thither by the strong hand holding yours.
When all the sweet enthusiams die
Leaving the springs of feelings dead and dry
Ask not the world a reason for their death
Nor seek to waken them by your own breath
Neither sit down in sorrow and despair
To do a penance in the form of prayer.
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