  Since neither man’s proud pomp & kingly name Endureth, nor his monumental throne, Nor honour’d shrine, nor pinnacle of fame; Since borne in agony to life he came & in pain too he passeth, one by one His joys desert him, friendless & alone, Yea since all lov’d delights their cycles range, All to their parent elements return, Air to air, dust to dust,—when Thy Life’s breath, The fire of Thine inscrutable Will them burn, Scattering, destroying,—yea since finisheth All things, or death, or marring grief, or change; Since this is, this must needs Thy purpose be, Through such dark doors to win Thy works to Thee.
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