THE FASHION OF THIS WORLD PASSETH AWAY.
I
The fashion of this world passeth away,
The things that are fairest are first to decay;
The bell of the lily, the leaf of the rose;
The moss on the bank where the violet grows;
All these are too sweet and too fragile to stay:
For the fashion of this world passeth away.
II
But mourn not the doom of inanimate things;
See thy favourite bird with its beautiful wings;
Thy dog full of instinct that courts a caress,
And scarcely wants language his love to express;
The steed thou art proud of—all—all must decay:
For the fashion of this world passeth away.
III
And were we not born for a worthier end,
Than to love him, and lose him; oh! what were a friend!
The fond heart looks forth from its pilgrimage here,
To a meeting more blest in a happier sphere.
For this we must watch, and for this we must pray:
Since the fashion of this world passeth away.
