86 THE DYING YOUTH'S LAMENT. 4 End." 1. 'Tis the last sun that e- ver, Will rise on my sight; For my earth-ly ex-ist-ence, Will fade with its light, And night's dreary mantle Spread o'er me its pall. 3 Life's sands will be numbered Ere twilight shall fall, 2 T'was the last faithful warning That fell on my ear, T'was the last gospel sermon I ever should hear; That last prayer so earnest Was offered in vain, There remains to me only The "wages of sin." } 3 'Tis the last blooming summer these eyes may behold, Long, long ere another this heart may be cold! But time's golden moments my sins have beguiled, And I grieve that so shortly this pulse must be stilled. 4 On a death bed of sorrow dark hours roll by, Forsaken of Heaven, ah, who dares to die! The turf will press sadly upon my lone grave, For, alas! I have spurned Him who only can save. Why should mortals be proud? 10 why should the spirit of mortals be proud? Like a swift shooting meteor, a fast flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a dash of the wave, It passes from earth to its rest in the grave. 2 The leaves of the oak, and the willow shall fade, Be scattered around and together be laid; The young and the old, the low and the high, Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie." 8 The hand of the King, that a sceptre hath borne, The brow of a Priest, that a mitre hath worn, The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave, Are hidden alike in the depths of the grave. 4 The saint that enjoyed the Communion of heaven, The sinner that dared to remain unforgiven, The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just Have quietly mingled their bones with the dust. 5 We are the same beings our fathers have been, We see the same sights that our fathers have seen, We drink the same stream, we feel the same sun, We run the same race, that our fathers did run. 6 The tho'ts we are thinking our fathers did think, From the woes we are shrinking they too did shrink, To the life we are clinging, they too did cling; But it speeds from the earth like a bird on the wing. 7 They died, O! they died, and we, things that are nowThat walk on the dust that lies over their brow,That make in the dwellings a transient abodeMeet the changes they met on the pilgrimage road. 8 So the multitude goes, even those we behold, And repeat the same tale that our fathers have told; So the multitude come, like the flower and the weed That wither away, to let others succeed. 9 Thus hope and despondency, pleasure and pain, Are mingled together like sunshine and rain, And the smile, and the tear, and the song and the dirge, 10 'Tis the glance of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath, 3 Ye wonderful orbs, that astonish mine eyes, I soon shall contemplate more beautiful skies, 4 Ye mountains and valleys, ye rivers and plains More permanent regions where righteousness reigns, 5 My weeping relations, my brethren and friends, Where friendship immortal is known. 6 The works of transgressors shall grieve me no more, Midst foes I no longer reside; My conflict with sin and with sinners is o'er, 7 No lurking temptation, defilement or fear, 8 Ye Sabbaths below, which have been my delight, You've guided my footsteps like stars during night,' Adieu, my conductors benign. 9 Thou tottering seat of disease and of pain, I soon shall behold and possess thee again, 10 Come, come my dear Jesus, come quickly release And make me ascend the fair regions of peace, [*2] |