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1 Death calls our friends, our neighbours, hence,
And none resist the fatal dart;
Continual warnings trike our sense —
And shall they fail to reach our heart?
2 That awful hour will soon appear,
(Swift on the wings of time it flies)
When all that pains or pleases, here,
Shall vanish from our closing eyes.
3 Lord of our life, inspire our heart
With heav'nly ardour, grace divine;
Nor let thy presence e'er depart,
For strength, and life, and death, are thine.
4 O teach us the celestial skill
Each awful warning to improve;
And, while our days are short'ning still,
Prepare us for the joys above.
Source: A Collection of Psalms and Hymns for Publick Worship #CXXXIX