What if the foot, ordained the dust to tread,

Or hand, to toil, aspired to be the head?

What if the head, the eye, or ear repined

To serve mere engines to the ruling Mind?

Just as absurd for any part to claim

To be another, in this general frame:

Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains

The great directing MIND of ALL ordains.

. . .

Know thy own point: this kind, this due degree

Of blindness, weakness, Heaven bestows on thee.

Submit. --In this, or any other sphere,

Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear:

Safe in the hand of one disposing Power,

Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.

All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;

All Chance, Direction, which thou canst not see;

All Discord, Harmony not understood;

All partial Evil, universal Good:

And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite,

One truth is clear, WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.