HYMN 55. (C. M.) Frail Life and succeeding Eternity.
I
Thee we adore, eternal name,
And humbly own to thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame!
What dying worms are we!
II
Our wasting lives grow shorter still
As months and days increase;
And every beating pulse we tell
Leaves but the number less.
III
The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath that first it gave;
Whate'er we do, where'er we be,
We're travelling to the grave.
IV
Dangers stand thick through all the ground
To push us to the tomb,
And fierce diseases wait around
To hurry mortals home.
V
Good God! on what a slender thread
Hand everlasting things!
Th'eternal states of all the dead
Upon life's feeble strings.
VI
Infinite joy or endless woe
Attends on every breath;
And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death!
VII
Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense
To walk this dangerous road;
And if our souls be hurry'd hence
May they be found with God!
