Till when, O slothful one, dost thou lie? When dost thou arise from thy sleep?
Consider, ye brutish among the people, And ye foolish, when do ye act wisely?
`Till when, ye simple, do ye love simplicity? And have scorners their scorning desired? And do fools hate knowledge?
Sloth causeth deep sleep to fall, And an indolent soul doth hunger.
Love not sleep, lest thou become poor, Open thine eyes -- be satisfied `with' bread.
The door turneth round on its hinge, And the slothful on his bed.
A little sleep, a little slumber, A little clasping of the hands to rest,
Go unto the ant, O slothful one, See her ways and be wise;
She doth prepare in summer her bread, She hath gathered in harvest her food.
The fool is clasping his hands, and eating his own flesh:
Wash from evil thy heart, O Jerusalem, That thou mayest be saved, Till when dost thou lodge in thy heart Thoughts of thy strength?
There came a man -- having been sent from God -- whose name `is' John,
And this, knowing the time, that for us, the hour already `is' to be aroused out of sleep, for now nearer `is' our salvation than when we did believe;
wherefore he saith, `Arouse thyself, thou who art sleeping, and arise out of the dead, and the Christ shall shine upon thee.'