 | Naked Genius |  |
144
THE CLOSE OF LIFE.
To the scene of life now closes.
Time, farewell to thee;
Oh! that I could die like Moses,
Drop and strangely flee;
I'm gone, amen—I'm gone forever,
My eternal debt to pay;
To return again more never,
Torn from earth away.
Time, farewell to thee;
Oh! that I could die like Moses,
Drop and strangely flee;
I'm gone, amen—I'm gone forever,
My eternal debt to pay;
To return again more never,
Torn from earth away.
Flesh and spirit clept asunder,
With the flight of breath;
Halt my soul, look down and wonder,
After gloom of death;
But let no sobbing tones attend it,
Hide! oh hide! the lifeless frame;
Sobs and tears can never mend it,
All must die the same.
With the flight of breath;
Halt my soul, look down and wonder,
After gloom of death;
But let no sobbing tones attend it,
Hide! oh hide! the lifeless frame;
Sobs and tears can never mend it,
All must die the same.
Man is born not long to tarry,
A bloom of swift decay;
Death like lightning flies to carry,
Souls from time away.
His worthless jaw is but a bubble,
Mortal, what is fortune's crown;
Groping thro' a maze of trouble,
What is vain renown.
A bloom of swift decay;
Death like lightning flies to carry,
Souls from time away.
His worthless jaw is but a bubble,
Mortal, what is fortune's crown;
Groping thro' a maze of trouble,
What is vain renown.
Life is but a cloud of sorrow,
Oh! but soon to close;
I'm here to-day, but gone to-morrow,
To my long repose.
See, see, how fast in fates dark ocean,
Mortals sink beneath the wave;
From a stage of proud devotion,
Onward to the grave.
Oh! but soon to close;
I'm here to-day, but gone to-morrow,
To my long repose.
145
Mortals sink beneath the wave;
From a stage of proud devotion,
Onward to the grave.
Life's dull bush, no spring retrieves it,
Left without a bloom;
Which, when transient summer leaves it,
Blossoms for the tomb.
Then, oh my soul, forbear to languish,
Drop thy mantle on the shore;
Sing, oh death, where is thy anguish,
Lost and felt no more.
Left without a bloom;
Which, when transient summer leaves it,
Blossoms for the tomb.
Then, oh my soul, forbear to languish,
Drop thy mantle on the shore;
Sing, oh death, where is thy anguish,
Lost and felt no more.
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