On Hope

We work for wealth and honour while we live,
With all the Perquisites that God can give;
We rack our Fancies, and disturb our Brains,
We tire our Bodies, and take mighty pains;
When at the last our pamper'd Bodies must
Be eat by worms, and then return to dust.
Here nothing we possess, but hope in time
To gain our peace and pardon for our Crime:
But then by Grace restor'd, and snatch'd from Hell,
We shall in bliss and glory ever dwell.