1 Behold the path which mortals tread
Down to the regions of the dead!
Nor will the fleeting moments stay,
Nor can we measure back our way.
2 From vital air, from cheerful light,
To the cold grave's perpetual night;
From scenes of duty, means of grace,
I must to God's tribunal pass.
3 Awake, my soul! thy way prepare,
And lose in this each mortal care;
With steady feet that path be trod,
Which through the grave conducts to God.
4 Then shall I smile secure from fear,
Though death arrest the circling year;
And joy to meet the blissful shore,
From whence I shall return no more.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Behold the path which mortals tread |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1792 |
Topic: | Funeral |
Notes: | Public Domain. |