| |
| O SOUL, with storms beset, | |
| Thy griefs and cares forget! | |
| Why dread earth’s transient woe, | |
| When soon thy body in the grave unseen | |
| Shall be laid low, | 5 |
| And all will be forgotten then, as though | |
| It had not been? | |
| |
| Wherefore, my soul, be still! | |
| Adore God’s holy will, | |
| Fear death’s supreme decree. | 10 |
| Thus mayst thou save thyself, and win high aid | |
| To profit thee, | |
| When thou, returning to thy Lord, shalt see | |
| Thy deeds repaid. | |
| |
| Why muse, O troubled soul, | 15 |
| O’er life’s poor earthly goal? | |
| When thou hast fled, the clay | |
| Lies mute, nor bear’st thou aught of wealth, or might | |
| With thee that day, | |
| But, like a bird, unto thy nest away, | 20 |
| Thou wilt take flight. | |
| |
| Why for a land lament | |
| In which a lifetime spent | |
| Is as a hurried breath? | |
| Where splendour turns to gloom and honours show | 25 |
| A faded wreath | |
| Where health and healing soon must sink beneath | |
| The fatal bow. | |
| |
| What seemeth good and fair | |
| Is often falsehood there. | 30 |
| Gold melts like shifting sands, | |
| Thy hoarded riches pass to other men, | |
| And strangers’ hands | |
| And what will thy treasured wealth and lands | |
| Avail thee then? | 35 |
| |
| Life is a vine, whose crown | |
| The reaper Death cuts down. | |
| His ever-watchful eyes | |
| Mark every step, until night’s shadows fall, | |
| And swiftly flies | 40 |
| The passing day, and ah! how distant lies | |
| The goal of all. | |
| |
| Therefore, rebellious soul, | |
| Thy base desire control; | |
| With scantily given bread | 45 |
| Content thyself, nor let they memory stray | |
| To splendours fled, | |
| But call to mind affliction’s weight and dread | |
| The judgment day. | |
| |
| Prostrate and humbled go, | 50 |
| Like to the dove laid low. | |
| Remember evermore | |
| The peace of heaven, the Lord’s eternal rest. | |
| When burdened sore | |
| With sorrow’s load, at every step implore | 55 |
| His succour bless’d. | |
| |
| Before God’s mercy-seat | |
| His pardoning love entreat. | |
| Make pure thy thoughts from sin, | |
| And bring a contrite heart as sacrifice | 60 |
| His grace to win— | |
| Then will His angels come and lead thee in | |
| To Paradise. | |
| |
