There is great wisdom in the old story:
Within a basket tucked away
In slow starvation's grim decay,
A broken-hearted serpent lay.
But see the cheerful mouse that gnaws
A hole, and tumbles in his jaws
At night—new hope's unbidden cause!
Now see the serpent, sleek with meat,
Who hastens through the hole, to beat
From quarters cramped, a glad retreat!
So fuss and worry will not do;
For fate is somehow muddling through
To good or bad for me and you.
"Adopt this point of view, and give some attention to ultimate salvation. There is a verse about that, too:
Let some small rite—vow, fasting, self-control—
Be daily practiced with a quiet soul;
For fate chips daily from our days to be,
Though panting life go struggling ceaselessly.
"This being so, contentment is always wise:
Contentment's nectar-draught supplies
The quiet joy that satisfies;
How can the money-maddened know
That joy in bustlings to and fro?
And once again:
No penance like forbearance;
No pleasure like content;
No friend like gifts; no virtue
Like hearts on mercy bent.
