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440.
The Vanity of Long Life.

1
LIKE shadows gliding o’er the plain,
Or clouds that roll successive on,
Man's busy generations pass,
And while we gaze their forms are gone.

2
Vain is the boast of lengthen’d years ;
A patriarch's full maturity;
'Tis but a larger drop, to swell
The ocean of eternity.

3
O Father! in whose mighty hand,
The boundless years and ages lie;
Teach us thy boon of life to prize,
And use the moments as they fly;

4
To crowd the narrow span of life,
With wise designs and virtuous deeds :
So shall we wake from death's dark night,
To share the glory that succeeds.

441.
Improvement of the Shortness of Life.

1
The short-liv'd day declines in haste,
The night of death approaches fast;
With rapid speed the moments run,
In which the work of life is done.

2
As flies the shuttle o'er the loom,
So mortals hasten to the tomb ;
As ships that skim along the sea,
Or eagles darting on their prey.

3
As vanishes the fleeting shade ;
As flowers before the evening fade ;-

Such is the life of feeble man;
His days are measur'd by a span.

4
With willing heart, and active hands,
Lord ! I would practise thy commands;
Improve the moments as they ily,
And live as I would wish to die.

442.
On the Death of a Young Person.

1 When blooming youth is snatch'd away

By death's resistless hand,
Our hearts the mournful tribute pay
Which pity must demand.

2
While pity prompts the rising sigh,

Oh may this truth, imprest
With awful power, ' I too must die,'
Sink deep in every breast.

3
Let this vain world delude no more ;

Behold the opening tomb ! It bids us seize the present hour; 'To-morrow,

death

may come.

4
The voice of this alarming scene

May every heart obey ;
Nor be the heavenly warning vain,
Which calls to watch and pray.

443.
The Great Journey.

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,

P

2
Our kindred and our friends are gone;
Know, O my soul, this doom thine 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,
I must to God's tribunal pass.

4
Awake, my soul! thy way prepare,
And lose in this each meaner care ;
With steady feet that path be trod,
Which, through the grave, conducte to God.

444.
Time Flying and Death Approaching.

1
That awful hour will soon appear,
Swift on the wings of time it flies,
When all that pains or pleases here,
Will vanish from my closing eyes.

2
Death calls my friends, my neighbours hence;
None can resist his fatal dart;
Continual warnings strike my sense ;
And shall they fail to strike my heart!

3
Think, O my soul, how much depends
On the short period of a day :
Shall time, which heaven in mercy lends,
Be negligently thrown away?

4
The remnant minutes strive to use ;
Awake! rouse every active power!
And not in dreams and trifles lose
This little, this important hour!

5
Lord of my life! inspire my heart
With heavenly ardour, grace divine :
Nor let thy presence e'er depart;
For strength, and life, and death are thine.

6
Oh teach me the celestial skill,
Each awful warning to improve !
And while my days are shortening still,
Prepare me for the joys above !

445.

The Vanity of Man, as mortal.

Teach me the measure of my days,

Thou Maker of my frame !
I would survey life's narrow space,
And learn how frail I am.

2
A span is all that we can boast,

A fleeting hour of time;
Man is but vanity and dust,
In all his flower and prime.

3
fee the vain race of mortals move,

Like shadows, o'er the plain;
They rage and strive, desire and love,
But all their noise is vain.

4
Some walk in honour's gaudy show ;

Some dig for shining ore;
They toil for heirs, they know not who,
And straight are seen no more.

5
What should I wish, or wait for, then,

From creatures, earth and dust!

They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.

6
Now I resign my earthly hope,

My fond desires recall;
I give my mortal interest up,
And make

my God my all.

4+5.
The fashion of this World passeth anay.'

1
SPRING up, my soul, with ardent flight ;
Nor let this earth delude thy sight,

With glittering trifles, gay and vain :
Wisdom divine directs thy view
To objects ever grand and new,
And faith displays the shining train.

2
The world's gay pageant rolls along ;
The giddy inexperienc'd throng

Pursue it with enchanted eyes :
It passes in swift march away,
Still more and more its charms decay,
Till the last gaudy colour dies.

3
O God, to thee my soul shall turn;
For thee my noblest passions burn,

And trust for bliss in thee alone:
I fix on that unchanging home,
Where never-fading pleasures bloom,

Fresh springing round thy radiant throne.

447.
Life Fleeting : for an Anniversary.

1
The year hath pass'd away,
Swift as the gliding stream;

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