This Fly, my love, you see so brisk and
Never lives longer than a single day;

gay,

'Tis therefore styl'd a Day-Fly, and in this, Learn the evanid state of earthly bliss.

Ros. Now I perceive, my dearest, that the fly May of a preacher well the place supply.

Theo. In bliss, my love, none here that Fly transcend,

Born in a paradise his life to spend;

If you

with sinful men such flies compare,

They of the two on earth much happier are :
They paradise enjoy, which we have lost;
They have full ease, we to and fro' are toss'd;
The world we should renounce, we most admire;
All things to our eternal bane conspire;

The human butterflies of either sex,

Who with their gaudy dress themselves perplex,
Live but a day, tho' flutt'ring many years.
Life on the death-bed like one day appears;
This earthly life, Rosetta, then depise,
And to the life supernal lift your eyes.

Ros. Dear Theodore, O tell me how we best
With trouble and temptation may contest.
Theo. We, like the fly, must from the world retreat,
And wisely manage our short vital heat;
Strive that this day may yesterday outdo,
Of virtue nobler heights each day pursue;
GOD, to the present day our views confin'd,
Would have us for the future live resign'd;
Taught us to pray for only daily bread,
And trust to him to be to-morrow fed.

We'll live God's children, and to Gon resign'd,
A brother and a sister to mankind.

We'll to our fly give freedom, that he may
Live his age o'er with happiness to-day;

From him, each day, we 'll learn to live content
Upon the daily manna GOD has sent.

With thanks to GOD we'll now our meal begin:
Sweet is the meal which is not soured by sin;
Sweet is the meal which wasted strength recruits,
That GOD may of our vigour have the fruits.
This day to future days shall be the plan,
We'll every day DO ALL THE GOOD WE CAN.

THE END.

DAVIDSON, PRINTER, OLD BOSWELL COURT, LONDON.