To His Dear God

I’ll hope no more
    For things that will not come;
And if they do, they prove but cumbersome.
      Wealth brings much woe;
    And, since it fortunes so,
    ’Tis better to be poor
      Than so t’ abound
      As to be drown’d
    Or overwhelm’d with store.

      Pale care, avaunt!
    I’ll learn to be content
With that small stock Thy bounty gave or lent.
      What may conduce
    To my most healthful use,
    Almighty God, me grant;
      But that, or this,
      That hurtful is,
    Deny Thy suppliant.
To His Dear God

by Robert Herrick, 1647
