While with ceaseless course the sun Hasted through the former year, Many souls their race have run, Never more to meet us here; Fixed in an eternal fate, They have done with all below; We a little longer wait, But how little none can know.
As the wingèd arrow flies Speedily the mark to find; As the lightning from the skies Darts, and leaves no trace behind; Swiftly thus our fleeting days Bear us down life’s rapid stream; Upwards, Lord, our spirits raise, All below is but a dream.
Thanks for mercies past receive, Pardon of our sins renew; Teach us, henceforth, how to live With eternity in view: Bless Thy Word to young and old, Fill us with a Savior’s love; And when life’s short tale is told, May we dwell with Thee above.
|