97. Pride and death; or, The vanity of life and riches

1 Why doth the man of riches grow
To insolence and pride,
To see his wealth and honors flow
With ev'ry rising tide.

[2 Why doth he treat the poor with scorn,
Made of the self-same clay,
And boast as though his flesh was born
Of better dust than they?

3 Not all his treasures can procure
His soul a short reprieve,
Redeem from death one guilty hour,
Or make his brother live.

4 Eternal life can ne'er be sold,
The ransom is too high;
Justice will ne'er be brib'd with gold,
That man may never die.]

5 He sees the brutish and the wise,
The timorous and the brave,
Quit their possessions, close their eyes,
And hasten to the grave.

6 Yet 'tis his inward thought and pride,
"My house shall ever stand;
"And that my name may long abide,
"I'll give it to my land."

7 Vain are his thoughts, his hopes are lost,
How soon his mem'ry dies!
His name is buried in the dust,
Where his own body lies.]

Pause.

8 This is the folly of their way!
And yet their sons, as vain,
Approve the words their fathers say,
And act their works again.

9 Men void of wisdom and of grace,
Though honor raise them high,
Live like the beast, a thoughtless race,
And like the beast they die.

[10 Laid in the grave, like silly sheep,
Death triumphs o'er them there,
Till the last trumpet breaks their sleep,
And wakes them in despair.]

Text Information
First Line: Why doth the man of riches grow
Title: Pride and death; or, The vanity of life and riches
Meter: Common Metre
Language: English
Publication Date: 1791
Scripture:
Notes: First part
Tune Information
(No tune information)



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