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1 Our days, alas! our mortal days
Are short and wretched too;
"Evil and few," the patriarch says,
And well the patriarch knew.
2 'Tis but at best a narrow bound
That heaven allows to men,
And pains and sins run through the round
Of threescore years and ten.
3 Well, if ye must be sad and few,
Run on, my days, in haste;
Moments of sin, and months of wo,
Ye cannot fly too fast.
4 Let heavenly love prepare my soul,
And call her to the skies,
Where years of long salvation roll,
And glory never dies.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Our days, alas! our mortal days |
Meter: | C. M. |
Publication Date: | 1828 |
Topic: | Holy Spirit: Vanity and uncertainty of life; The Shortness and Misery of Life |