What better thought, than think on God, and daily him to serve,
What better gift than to the poor, that ready be to sterve?

His estimate of life is concise:--

To death we must stoop, be we high, be we low,
But how and how suddenly few be that know;
What carry we then but a sheet to the grave,
(To cover this carcass) of all that we have?

His hospitable heart thus pleads for the desolate, during the
festivities of Christmas, and his love of "mirth and good cheer" makes
him not forget Harvests home:--

At Christmas, the hardness of winter doth rage,
A griper of all things, and specially age;
Then sadly poor people, the young and the old,
Be sorest oppressed with hunger and cold.

At Christmas, by labour there's little to get,
That wanting--the poorest in danger are set:
What season then better, of all the whole year,
Thy needy, poor neighbour, to comfort and cheer.

At Christmas be merry, and thankful withal,
And feast thy poor neighbours, the great with the small:
Yea all the year long, to the poor let us give,
God's blessing to follow us, whiles we do live.

In harvest time, harvest folk, servants and all
Should make, all together, good cheer in the hall;
And fill out the black bowl of blythe to their song,
And let them be merry all harvest time long.

Once ended thy harvest, let none be beguil'd,
Please such as did help thee--man, woman, and child,--
Thus doing, with alway, such help as they can,
Thou winnest the praise of the labouring man.

Now look up to God-ward, let tongue never cease
In thanking of him, for his mighty increase,
Accept my good will--for a proof go and try;
The better thou thrivest, the gladder am I.

Tusser died about the year 1583, aged about sixty-five, and is buried in
St. Mildred's church, in the Poultry. His epitaph is preserved in
Stowe's Survey of London; and (as Mr. Mavor observes) it is perfectly in
character with the man and his writings; and if conjecture may be
allowed, was penned by himself:--

Here Thomas Tusser, clad in earth, doth lie,
Who sometime made the Points of Husbandry.
By him then learn thou may'st. Here learn we must,
When all is done, we sleep and turn to dust.
And yet, through Christ, to heaven we hope to go:
Who reads his books, shall find his faith was so.

His book exhibits an authentic picture of the state of horticulture
during the tim