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1 Why do the proud insult the poor,
And boast the large estates they have!
How vain are riches to secure
Their haughty owners from the grave!
2 They can’t redeem one hour from death
With all the wealth in which they trust;
Nor give a dying brother breath,
When GOD commands him down to dust.
3 There the dark earth and dismal shade
Shall clasp their naked bodies round;
That flesh so delicately fed
Lies cold, and moulders in the ground.
4 Like thoughtless sheep the sinner dies,
And leaves his glories in the tomb:
The saints shall in the morning rise,
And find th’oppressor's awful doom.
5 His honours perish in the dust,
And pomp and beauty, birth and blood;
That glorious day exalts the just
To full dominion o’er the proud.
6 My Saviour shall my life restore,
And raise me from my dark abode;
My flesh and soul shall part no more,
But dwell forever near my GOD.
| Text Information | |
|---|---|
| First Line: | Why do the proud insult the poor |
| Title: | The rich Sinner's Death, and the Saint's Resurrection |
| Meter: | Long Metre |
| Language: | English |
| Publication Date: | 1785 |
| Scripture: | |
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