The vanity of creatures;
or, No rest on earth.
Man has a soul of vast desires,
He burns within with restless fires;
Tost to and fro, his passions fly
From vanity to vanity.
In vain on earth we hope to find
Some solid good to fill the mind,
We try new pleasures, but we feel
The inward thirst and torment still.
So when a raging fever burns
We shift from side to side by turns,
And ’tis a poor relief we gain
To change the place, but keep the pain.
Great God, subdue this vicious thirst,
This love to vanity and dust;
Cure the vile fever of the mind,
And feed our souls with joys refin’d.