My Lot On Earth Is Not All Mirth, Nor Is It Constant Gloom; Some Joys Decay And Fall Away, But Leave Much Lasting Bloom. My Wishes Are Not Always Met, And Cares Press Hard At Times; Yet Joyous Strains Ne'er Sink To Fret, Tho' Dollars Shrink To Dimes. My Earthly Lot Boasts Not A Cot, No Foot Of Land I Own, No Bank Account Nor Phosphate Mount, Nor Credit For A Loan; But I Can Read My Title Clear To Mansion, Robe, And Crown; I Couple These With Lot Down Here, And Sing, Tho' Foes May Frown.