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Isaac Watts - The SluggardIsaac Watts - The Sluggard
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`Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain, "You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again." As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head. "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;" Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number, And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands, Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands. I pass`d by his garden, and saw the wild brier, The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher; The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags; And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs. I made him a visit, still hoping to find That he took better care for improving his mind: He told me his dreams, talked of eating and drinking; But scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking. Said I then to my heart, "Here`s a lesson for me," This man`s but a picture of what I might be: But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding, Who taught me betimes to love working and reading.
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