LIFE is a span, a fleeting hour;
How soon the vapour flies!
Man is a tender, transient flower,
That even in blooming dies.

Death spreads like winter's frozen arms, And beauty smiles no more ;

Ah! where are now those rising charms Which pleas'd our eyes before?

3

The once loved form, now cold and dead,
Each mournful thought employs ;
And nature weeps her comforts fled,
And withered all her joys.

4

But wait the interposing gloom,
And lo stern winter flies,

And, drest in beauty's fairest bloom,

The flowery tribes arise.

5

Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,
When what we now deplore

Shall rise in full, immortal prime,
And bloom to fade no more.

6

Then cease, fond nature! cease thy tears;
Religion points on high;
There everlasting spring appears,
And joys which cannot die.

134. C. M.

1

OUR days are like the flowers that fade,
And life's descending light
Grows fainter, till the lengthening shade
Sinks in the gloom of night.

2

But thou forever art the same,

O our eternal God!

Ages to come shall know thy name,

And spread thy praise abroad.

135. L.M.

1

BEHOLD the path that mortals tread,
Down to the regions of the dead!
Nor will the fleeting moments stay,
Nor can we measure back our way.

2

Our kindred and our friends are gone;
'Know, O my soul, this doom thy own;
Feeble as theirs my mortal frame,
The same my way-my house the same.

3

From vital air, from cheerful light,
To the cold grave's perpetual night,
From scenes of duty, means of grace,
Must I to God's tribunal pass.

4.

Awake. my soul ! thy way prepare,
And lose in this each mortal care ;
With steady feet that path be trod,
Which, through the grave, conducts to God.

136. C. M.

1

WITH eye impartial, Heaven's high King
Surveys each human tribe;

No earthly pomp his eyes can charm,
No wealth his favour bribe.

2

The rich and poor, for happiness,
His hand alike did frame;
All souls are his, and him may all
Their common parent claim.

3

Ye sons of men of high degree,
Your great Superior own;
Praise him for all his gifts, and pay
Your homage at his throne.

4

Trust in the Lord, ye humble poor,
And banish every fear;

The God you serve will ne'er forsake
The man of heart sincere.

PERPETUAL source of light and grace, We praise thy sacred name: Through every year's revolving round Thy goodness is the same.

2

On us, unworthy as we are,

Its blessings still it pours,

Sure as the heaven's established course, And plenteous as the showers.

3

But we inconstant service pay,

And feeble vows renew;
Transient too oft as morning clouds,
And like the early dew.

4

Aided by energy divine,

Let us more stedfast prove;

And, with a quickened progress, press On to thy courts above.

5

So, by thy power, the morning sun
Pursues his radiant way,

Brightens each moment in his race,
And shines to perfect day.