1

They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.

3 Now I resign my earthly hope,

1

My fond desires recal;

I give

mortal int'rest up,
my God my all.

my And make

A

603. L.M. MRS. STEELE.

The shortness and vanity of life.

LMIGHTY maker of my frame!
Teach me the measure of my days:

Teach me to know how frail I am,
And spend the remnant to thy praise.
My days are shorter than a span;
A little point my life appears;
How frail at best is dying man!
How vain are all his hopes and fears!

3 Vain are ambition, noise and show: Vain are the cares which rack his mind: He heaps up treasures mix'd with woe; Then dies, and leaves them all behind. + O be a nobler portion mine!

My GOD! I bow before thy throne:
Earth's fleeting treasures I resign,
And fix my hope on thee alone.
Do thou the rule of passion curb;
Forgive my sins! their pow'r control;
No more let conscious guilt disturb
The peace and comfort of my soul.

:

604. L.M. DODDRIDGE.

The mutability of the creatures, and the immutability of Gov.

G

REAT former of this various frame ! Our souls adore thine awful name; And bow and tremble while they praise The Ancient of eternal days.

2 Our days a transient period run,
And change with ev'ry circling sun;
And, in the firmest state we boast,
A moth may crush us into dust.
3 But let the creatures fall around:
Let death consign us to the ground :
Let the last gen'ral flame arise,
And melt the arches of the skies :-

■Calm as the summer's ocean, we
May all the wreck of nature see,
While we obtain that blest abode
Near the unshaken throne of GOD!

TH

605. L. M. WATTS.

Man mortal, but God eternal.

HRO' ev'ry age, eternal God!
Thou art our rest, our safe abode;
High was thy throne ere heay'n was made,
Or earth, thy humble footstool, laid.

2 Long hadst thou reign'd ere time began,
Or dust was fashion'd into man:
And long thy kingdom shall endure,
When earth and time shall be no more.

1

3

L

608. S. M. WATTS.

The frailty of man.

ORD, what a feeble piece
Is this our mortal frame!

Our life, how poor a trifle 'tis,
That scarce deserves the name!

Alas! the brittle clay

That built our body first:
And ev'ry month, and ev'ry day,
'Tis mould'ring back to dust.

Our moments fly apace,
Nor will our minutes stay:
Just like a flood our hasty days
Are sweeping us away.

4 Well, if our days must fly,
We'll keep their end in sight;

5

1

We'll spend them all in wisdom's way,
And let them speed their flight.

They'll waft us sooner o'er
This life's tempestuous sea:

Soon we shall reach the peaceful shore
Of biest eternity.

609. L.M. MRS. STEELE.

GR

The rapid flight of time.

REAT Father of eternity!
How short are ages in thy sight!
A thousand years, how swift they fly,
Like one short, silent watch of night!
2 Uncertain

2 Uncertain life, how soon it flies!

Dream of an hour, how short our bloom!
Like spring's gay verdure now we rise,
Cut down ere night to fill the tomb.

3 Our days, alas! how short their bound!
Though slow and sad they seem to run;
Revolving years roll swiftly round,
A mournful tale, but swiftly done.
4 Teach us to count our short'ning days,
And, with true diligence, apply
Our hearts to wisdom's sacred ways,
That we may learn to live and die.

1

610. L.M. MRS. STEELE.

THA

The warnings of mortality.

HAT awful hour will soon appear, Swift on the wings of time it flies, When all that pains or pleases here, Will vanish from my closing eyes.

2 Death calls my friends, my neighbours hence,

And none resist the fatal dart:

Continual warnings strike my sense;
And shall they fail to strike my heart?

3 Think, O my soul! how much depends
On the short period of a day:

Shall time, which heav'n in mercy lends, Be negligently thrown away?

4 Thy remnant minutes strive to use; Awake! rouse ev'ry active pow'r!

PP 3

And

1

2

3

4

5

1

608. S.M. WATTS.

The frailty of man.

LORD, what a feeble piece

Is this our mortal frame!

Our life, how poor a trifle 'tis,

That scarce deserves the name!

Alas! the brittle clay
That built our body first:

And ev'ry month, and ev'ry day,
'Tis mould'ring back to dust.

Our moments fly apace,

Nor will our minutes stay: Just like a flood our hasty days Are sweeping us away.

Well, if our days must fly,

We'll keep their end in sight;
We'll spend them all in wisdom's way,
And let them speed their fliglit.

They'll waft us sooner o'er
This life's tempestuous sea :
Soon we shall reach the peaceful shore
Of blest eternity.

609. L.M. MRS. STEELE.

The rapid flight of time.

GREAT Father of eternity!

How short are ages in thy sight! A thousand years, how swift they fty, Like one short, silent watch of night! 2 Uncertain