William Cowper

Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.

Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.

The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.

The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.

And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.

And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.

I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to
be living apart.

I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to
be living apart.

How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at interval upon the ear
In cadence sweet; read more

How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at interval upon the ear
In cadence sweet; now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Memory slept.