1 Eternal God! how frail is man!
How few his hours, how short his span!
Short, from the cradle to the grave.
Who can secure his vital breath
Against the bold demands of death,
With skill to fly or pow'r to save?
2 But shall it, therefore, Lord! be said,
The race of man was only made
For sickness, sorrow, and the dust?
Or if thy servants, day by day,
Sink to their graves and turn to clay,
Thou hast no kindness for the just!
3 Hast thou no given to thy Son
An endless life, a heav'nly crown?
Why then should flesh and sense despair?
For ever blessed be the Lord,
That we can read his holy word,
And find a resurrection there.
4 For ever blessed be the Lord,
Who gives his saints a long reward
For all their toil, reproach, and pain.
Let all below and all above
Join to proclaim thy wondrous love,
And each repeat their loud "Amen."
Source: A Collection of Hymns and A Liturgy: for the use of Evangelical Lutheran Churches; to which are added prayers for families and individuals #494
First Line: | Eternal God, how frail is man |
Author: | Isaac Watts |
Copyright: | Public Domain |