A mass of dust, world's momentary slave, Is man, in state of our old Adam made, Soon born to die, soon flourishing to fade.
A mass of dust, world's momentary slave, Is man, in state of our old Adam made, Soon born to die, soon flourishing to fade.
Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories