4 We chatter with a swallow's voice, 5 Jehovah speaks the healing word, 6 If half the strings of life should break, DEATH. 53. The Vanity of Man as Mortal. (C.M.) TE EACH me the measure of 2 A span is all that we can boast, Man is but vanity and dust, In all his flower and prime. 3 See the vain race of mortals move, U 4 Some walk in honour's gaudy show, They toil for heirs,-they know not who, 5 What should I wish or wait for then, 6 Now I forbid my carnal hope, I give my mortal interest up, 254. Man Frail, and God Eternal. (C. M.) 1 GOD, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come; 2 Under the shadow of thy throne, 3 Before the hills in order stood, 4 Thy word commands our flesh to dust, All nations rose from earth at first, A thousand ages in thy sight, Short as the watch that ends the night, The busy tribes of flesh and blood, Time, like an ever-rolling stream, Like flow'ry fields the nations stand, O God, our help in ages past, Be thou our guard while life shall last, 5. Infirmities and Mortality the Effect of Sin. (C. M.) LORD, if thine eyes survey our faults, Thy dreadful wrath exceeds our thoughts, Thine anger turns our frame to dust; By one offence to thee, Adam, with all his sons, have lost, 3 Life, like a vain amusement, flies, By swift degrees our nature dies, 4 'Tis but a few whose days amount, 5 Our vitals, with laborious strife, And drag those poor remains of life, 6 Almighty God, reveal thy love, O let our sweet experience prove, 7 Our souls would learn the heav'nly art, That we may act the wiser part, 256. The Frailty and Shortness of Life. (SM 1 LORD, what a feeble piece, Is this our mortal frame! Our life how poor a trifle 'tis, That scarce deserves the name ! 2 Alas! the brittle clay, That built our body first! And every month, and every day, Our moments fly apace, 4 Well, if our days must fly, Soon we shall reach the peaceful shore, 57. Triumph over Death. (C. M.) 1 GR REAT God, I own thy sentence just, I yield my body to the dust, To dwell with fellow clay. 2 Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave, 3 The mighty Conqueror shall appear, High And death, the last of all his foes, 4 Though greedy worms devour my skin, When God shall build my bones again, |