tr., John Brownlie

I

The wealth of high estate,

The silver and the gold,

The glory of the great,

The wisdom of the old, --

Death seizes all, they pass away,

For all on earth is vanity.

II

Why seek the vain that dies?

The life begirt by death?

The fame, the power that flies

With the expiring breath?

The good that carries ill besides,

And for a fleeting hour abides?

III

Are there no gains that last,

To bless the soul for aye,

When passing things are past,

And things of earth decay?

Are there no joys that linger long

In sweetness, like a heavenly song?

IV

Arise, my soul, arise!

The husks of time disdain,

And wing thee to the skies,

Where there is lasting gain;

Where moth nor rust can mock thy toil,

Nor subtle thief break through to spoil.

V

O Christ, for Thee we long,

'Tis Thee our spirits need;

They only life prolong

Who on Thy bounties feed;

And they have wealth, and high estate,

And endless bliss who on Thee wait.