Losses

Losses

"In all losses I would have a doubled prospect, I would consider what I have lost, and I would have regard to what I have left. It may be in my loss I may find a benefit; I may be rid with it of a trouble, a snare, or a danger." - Owen Feltham.

What hast thou lost? the early spring of youth,

The season of rash wishes, feverish dreams,

Vain follies, ending in regret and ruth,

Joys and afflictions known in wild extremes.

What hast thou gained? the feelings calm and sage,
The tranquil haven of maturer age;
Thy bark of life no more is tempest-tossed,
Then weep not for the phantoms thou hast lost.

What hast thou lost? thy stores of shining good,

The means to dazzle with gay pomp thy eyes,

To mock thy ears with flatteries false and cold,

And cheat thy senses with proud luxuries.

Earth's glittering baubles lay at thy control,
Yet wert thou slowly periling thy soul;
Now vanished is thy wealth - thy projects crossed -
Thy power to tread temptation's maze is lost.

What hast thou lost? the guests whose wit beguiled

Thy mirthful hours, whose presence crowned the feast,

Who sought and praised thee while thy fortunes smiled,

And left thee when their fitful blaze had ceased.

True friendship rests not on the drossy hoard -
It seeks the lowly roof, the frugal board:
Now hast thou purchased wisdom at cheap cost,
Thy friends thou hast regained - thy flatterers lost.

What hast thou lost? oh! canst thou ever lose

The boon that long ago for thee was won?

Turn thee from life's poor vanities, and muse

On the dear mercies of God's blessed Son.

Not in the guise of power on earth He came -
He dwelt in poverty, neglect and shame;
Oh! were thy rebel thoughts by him engrossed,
Could'st thou thus mourn the nothings thou hast lost?

Thy youth has passed with all its idle mirth -

Thy wealth with all its anxious care has flown;

False sycophants no more profane thy hearth,

The calm of holy quiet is thy own.

And thou should'st rise each earthly ill above,
Dwelling alone upon thy Saviour's love,
Who left the starry skies and heavenly host,
To save the sinful and redeem the lost!

Mrs. Abdy (Maria Abdy)

New Series 2:22, p. 88

1841.07.31