The Voice of Praise ‎#904

904. My days, my weeks, my months, my years

1 My days, my weeks, my months, my years,
Fly rapid as the whirling spheres
Around the steady pole:
Time, like the tide, its motion keeps,
Till I must launch through boundless deeps,
Where endless ages roll.

2 The grave is near the cradle seen:
The moments swiftly pass between,
And whisper as they fly:
Unthinking man, remember this,
Though fond of sublunary bliss,
Thou soon must gasp and die.

3 My soul, attend the solemn call:
Thine earthly tent must quickly fall,
And thou must take thy flight
Beyond the vast expansive blue,
To sing and love as angels do,
Or sink in endless night.

Text Information

• First Line: My days, my weeks, my months, my years
• Author: Green
• Meter: C. P. M.
• Publication Date: 1873
• Topic: Time and Eternity; The Swiftness of Time

Tune Information

(No tune information)