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1 Few are the days of man on earth,
Whate'er his lot, where'er his birth;
Swift as a post they pass away,
Nor have we pow'r to make them stay.

2 Yet while we daily pilgrims go,
Great are our troubles here below,
And often, while we have our breath,
We long for rest, the rest of death.

3 Great God, the God of earth and sky,
'Tis Thou canst bless us from on high;
'Tis Thou canst make the burden light,
And make our dying moments bright.

4 Then blessed Christ we look to Thee
From ev'ry ill to set us free;
Dwell Thou within each troubled heart,
And strength divine to all impart.
His Fullness Songs #449 (1977)
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