Life is the time to serve the Lord,The time to ensure the great reward;And while the lamp holds out to burn,The vilest sinner may return.
Life is the hour that God has givenTo ’scape from hell and fly to Heav’n;The day of grace, and mortals maySecure the blessings of the day.
The living know that they must die,But all the dead forgotten lie;Their memory and their sense is gone,Alike unknowing and unknown.
Their hatred and their love is lost,Their envy is buried in the dust;They have no share in all that’s doneBeneath the circuit of the sun.
Then what my thoughts design to do,My hands, with all your might pursue;Since no device nor work is found,Nor faith, nor hope, beneath the ground.
There are no acts of pardon passedIn the cold grave, to which we haste;But darkness, death, and long despair,Reign in eternal silence there.