I Thee, we adore, eternal name,
And humbly own to thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we!
II Our wasting lives grow shorter still,
As months and days increase;
And ev'ry beating pulse we tell,
Leaves but the number less.
III The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath that first it gave;
Whate'er we do, where'er we be,
We're trav'lling to the grave.
IV Dangers stand thick through all the ground
To push us to the tomb,
And fierce diseases wait around,
To hurry mortals home.
V Good God! on what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things!
Th' eternal states of all the dead
Upon life's feeble strings.
VI Infinite joy, or endless wo,
Attends on ev'ry breath;
And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death!
VII Waken, O Lord! our drowsy sense,
To walk this dang'rous road;
And if our souls be hurry'd hence,
May they be found with God.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Thee, we adore, eternal name |
Title: | Frail life, and succeeding Eternity |
Meter: | Short Metre |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1787 |