Drowning is not so pitiful
 As the attempt to rise.
Three times, 't is said, a sinking man
 Comes up to face the skies,
And then declines forever
 To that abhorred abode
 
Where hope and he part company,—
 For he is grasped of God.
The Maker’s cordial visage,
 However good to see,
Is shunned, we must admit it,
 Like an adversity.

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