_For the Table Book._
Oh thou, that holdest in thy spacious hands
The destinies of men! whose eye surveys
Their various actions! thou, whose temple stands
Above all temples! thou, whom all men praise!
Of good the author! thou, whose wisdom sways
The universe! all bounteous! grant to me
Tranquillity, and health, and length of days;
Good will t’wards all, and reverence unto thee;
Allowance for man’s failings, of my own
The knowledge; and the power to conquer all
Those evil things to which we are too prone--
Malice, hate, envy--all that ill we call.
To me a blameless life, Great Spirit! grant,
Nor burden’d with much care, nor narrow’d by much want.