Doctor Watts's Imitation of the Psalms of David ‎#XLIII

XLIII. A Funeral Thought

1 Hark from the tombs, a doleful sound,
My ears attend the cry —
"Ye living men, come, view the ground
"Where you must shortly lie.

2 "Princes this clay must be your bed,
"In spite of all your towers;
"The tall, the wise, the reverend head
"Must lie as low as our's.

3 Great God, is this our certain doom?
And are we still secure!
Still walking downward to our tomb,
And yet prepar'd no more!

4 Grant us the powers of quickening grace,
To fit our souls to fly;
Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
We'll rise above the sky.

Text Information

• First Line: Hark from the tombs, a doleful sound
• Title: A Funeral Thought
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1787

Tune Information

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