Go, eat with joy thy bread, and drink with a glad heart thy wine, for already hath God been pleased with thy works.

I have turned so as to see under the sun, that not to the swift is the race, nor to the mighty the battle, nor even to the wise bread, nor even to the intelligent wealth, nor even to the skilful grace, for time and chance happen with them all.

By slothfulness is the wall brought low, And by idleness of the hands doth the house drop.

Send forth thy bread on the face of the waters, For in the multitude of the days thou dost find it.

And doors have been shut in the street. When the noise of the grinding is low, And one riseth at the voice of the bird, And all daughters of song are bowed down.