O Friend! I Know Not Which Way I Must Look For Comfort, Being, As I Am, Opprest, To Think That Now Our Life Is Only Drest For Show; Mean Handy-Work Of Craftsman, Cook, Or Groom!'We Must Run Glittering Like A Brook In The Open Sunshine, Or We Are Unblest: The Wealthiest Man Among Us Is The Best: No Grandeur Now In Nature Or In Book Delights Us. Rapine, Avarice, Expense, This Is Idolatry; And These We Adore: Plain Living And High Thinking Are No More: The Homely Beauty Of The Good Old Cause Is Gone; Our Peace, Our Fearful Innocence, And Pure Religion Breathing Household Laws.