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1 My Soul come meditate the Day,
And think how near it stands,
When thou must quit this House of Clay,
And fly to unknown Lands.
[2 And you mine Eyes, look down and View
The hollow, gaping Tomb:
This gloomy Prison waits for you,
Whene'er the Summons come.]
3 Oh! could we die with those that die,
And place us in their stead;
Then would our Spirits learn to fly,
And converse With the Dead:
4 Then should we see the Saints above
In their own glorious Forms,
And wonder why our Souls should love
To dwell with mortal Worms.
5 How we should scorn these Clothes of Flesh,
These Fetters, and this Load;
And long for Ev'ning to undress,
That we may rest with God.
6 We should almost forsake our Clay
Before the Summons come,
And pray, and wish our Souls away
To their eternal Home.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | My Soul come meditate the Day |
Title: | A Thought of Death and Glory |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1791 |
Topic: | Death and Resurrection |