1 Thee we adore, eternal name!
And humbly own to thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we!
[Our wasting lives grow shorter still,
As months and days increase;
And ev'ry beating pulse we tell
Leaves but the number less.
3 The year rolls round and steals away
The breath that first it gave;
What'er we do, where'er we be,
We're travelling to the grave.]
4 Dangers stand thick thro' all the ground,
To push us to the tomb;
And fierce diseases wait around,
To hurry mortals home.
5 Good God! on what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things!
Th' eternal states of all the dead,
Upon life's feeble strings.
6 Infinite joy or endless woe
Attends on ev'ry breath,
And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death!
7 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,
To walk this dang'rous road;
And if our souls are hurry'd hence,
May they be found with God.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Thee we adore, eternal name! |
Title: | Frail life and succeeding eternity |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1793 |