Time, what an empty vapor 'tis! And days, how swift they are! Swift as an Indian arrow flies, Or like a shooting star. 'Tis sovereign mercy finds us food, And we are clothed with love; While grace stands pointing out the road That leads our souls above. His goodness runs an endless round; All glory to the Lord! His mercy never knows a bound, And be his name adored! Thus we begin the lasting song; And when we close our eyes, Let the next age thy praise prolong, Till time and nature dies.
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