Classic Poem

Let us, who are sound and strong,
Lift our joyful faces;
Open mouth and cleanly tongue,
Greet our God with praises.
Hourly to him let us raise
(All our health from God is)
Healthy anthems all our days,
For our wholesome bodies.

Sweet and sound and tender blood
Leads a bright existence;
God, in giving us this good,
Gives us a subsistence
Ample for this passing world;
For the things of wonder,
Golden tent of heaven unfurled,
Wait us in the yonder.

Were I rich as Croesus was,
Gold and gold to squander;
Had I fame and made I laws,
Just like Alexander;
Sickly, were I forced to lie,
Beds and pillows pressing,
Would my wealth and grandeur be
Such a perfect blessing?

Were my table, passing wish,
Heaped with joy and pleasure,
Had I venison, wine and fish,
All the garden's treasure,
Which rejoices brain and heart,
Tongue and throat and palate,
What if I must sit apart
Not so much as smell it?

Had I pomp and every dower,
Sat in highest places,
Had I power of every power,
Lord of all the graces;
But suppose my body bore
Yoke and secret anguish
Of some sickness, like a poor
Beggar I should languish.

If I choose a piece of bread,
Where's the man will blame me?
Rather than the red-gold red
Filth men sigh for: Hey-me!
If my meat and drink taste well
All within my reach is;
Better cabbage to my fill
Than a dish of peaches.

Velvet, purple, help me not
Misery to carry,
If rheumatic, stone and gout,
Epilepsy harry;
Rather would I joyful go,
Ragged in meagre stitches,
Than with pain rock to and fro,
Clad in satin breeches.

Haply were I dumb from birth,
Were I lame on crutches,
If I could not see the earth,
(Light of day so much is)
Lacked I hearing, or had I
Soundless life before me,
Rather had I then that my
Mother never bore me.

Lacked I wit, or taste, or smell,
Were I muddle-headed,
If in muddle too, as well,
Heart and soul were wedded;
Were my courage and my thought
Never quite contented,
Better for me were I brought
Whence I was invented.

There is nothing wrong with me
In the parts I mention;
I enjoy the light, and see
All God's kind intention;
When my eyesight looketh round,
And my hearing heareth,
How the little birds' sweet sound
Praiseth whom it feareth!

Heart and spirit, hands and feet,
Have their proper forces;
All my fortune floweth fleet;
And I run my courses,
Which my master hath ordained
For my little sojourn,
Till the guerdon I have gained
Those who briskly budge earn.

While I draw the breath, with joy,
Which thy bounty giveth,
Let my body well employ
Gifts which it receiveth.
May my members, soon and late,
Both in sleep and waking,
Ever to thee dedicate
Every undertaking.

Hold me by thy power and strength,
When I fell death's finger,
And my little hour, at length,
Warns me not to linger.
Give me quietly my time,
With no grave affliction,
And in heaven thy sublime
Joys beyond prediction.