chod

Even such is time which takes in trust
our youth our joys and all we have
and pays us nought but age and dust
which in the dark and silent grave
when we have wandered all our ways
shuts up the story of our days
and from which grave and earth and dust
the lord shall raise me up I trust.


The more we live more brief appears
our life's succeeding stages
a day to childhood seems a year
and years like passing ages
when joys have lost their bloom and breath
and life itself is vipid
why as we reach the falls of death
feel we its tide more rapid
Heaven gives our years of fading strength
indemnifying fleetness
and those of youth and seeming length
proportioned to their sweetness.