I rose up at the dawn of day

I ROSE up at the dawn of day—

‘Get thee away! get thee away!

Pray’st thou for riches? Away! away!

This is the Throne of Mammon grey.’

Said I: This, sure, is very odd;

I took it to be the Throne of God.

For everything besides I have:

It is only for riches that I can crave.

I have mental joy, and mental health,

And mental friends, and mental wealth;

I’ve a wife I love, and that loves me;

I’ve all but riches bodily.

I am in God’s presence night and day,

And He never turns His face away;

The accuser of sins by my side doth stand,

And he holds my money-bag in his hand.

For my worldly things God makes him pay,

And he’d pay for more if to him I would pray;

And so you may do the worst you can do;

Be assur’d, Mr. Devil, I won’t pray to you.

Then if for riches I must not pray,

God knows, I little of prayers need say;

So, as a church is known by its steeple,

If I pray it must be for other people.

He says, if I do not worship him for a God,

I shall eat coarser food, and go worse shod;

So, as I don’t value such things as these,

You must do, Mr. Devil, just as God please.