Malvern Hills with Minor Poems, and Essays. By Joseph Cottle. Fourth Edition |
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TIME IS SHORT. |
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 | Malvern Hills |  |
305
TIME IS SHORT.
1
NARROW is th' appointed spaceFor mankind to run their race!
Small the interval allow'd
Between the cradle and the shroud;
Scarce from slumber we arise,
Ere the longest liver dies!
2
The very tree may now be laid,From which our coffin will be made!
Haply, now the web is spun
To wrap us, when our race is run!
And the spade, when we are dead,
May wait to form our lowly bed!
3
Have we, with our days so few,In a little, much to do?
Let us not, regardless, spend
Moments, which so soon must end!
Life is frail! a warning sound
Comes from every form around!
4
When our own hand's-breadth we scan,We the measure see of man!
When we mark the clouds on high;
When we view the shuttle fly;
Whispers reach us, soft, and clear,
Time is short, and death is near!
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5
Are we to a point confined?Have we an immortal mind?
After this uncertain state,
Does an endless world await?
Lord! endue us with thy grace,
Well to run our mortal race!
6
Heaven before us, let us giveOur thoughts to God, while here we live,
Nor partake the fool's repast,
Which will sorrow yield, at last:
Since anon we pass away,
Let us wisely spend to-day!
7
May we still the Saviour prize,Till the day-star in us rise!
May we walk by faith, and bear
More and more, his image here!
That the mansions in the sky
May receive us when we die!
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