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1 Shall the vile Race of Flesh and Blood
Contend with their Creator God!
Shall mortal Worms presume to be
More Holy, Wise, or Just than He?
2 Behold, he puts his Trust in none
Of all the Spirits round his Throne:
Their Natures, when compar'd with his,
Are neither Holy, Just, nor Wise.
3 But how much meaner Things are they
Who spring from Dust, and dwell in Clay!
Touch'd by the Finger of thy Wrath,
We faint and vanish like the Moth.
4 From Night to Day, from Day to Night,
We die by Thousands in thy Sight;
Bury'd in Dust whole Nations lie
Like a forgotten Vanity.
5 Almighty Pow'r, to Thee we bow;
How frail are we! how glorious Thou!
No more the Sons of Earth shall dare
With an Eternal God compare.
| Text Information | |
|---|---|
| First Line: | Shall the vile Race of Flesh and Blood |
| Title: | God far above Creatures; or, Man vain and Mortal |
| Language: | English |
| Publication Date: | 1791 |
| Scripture: | |
| Topic: | Frailty of Our Life |
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