6.6.8.6 James Montgomery The Measures of Time. A child, a youth, a man, The whole of life below! Our time a breath, our course a span; Whence come we? whither go? Whence come we? -- From the womb Of dark eternity; And thither go we, through the tomb, -- Behold a mystery! For though with worms and dust His mortal relics lie, Death may not hold or harm the just; The spirit cannot die. On angels' wings afar, 'Tis, by a path unknown, Beyond the range of sun or star, Caught up before the throne: -- At rest in Paradise, With Him in bliss to live, Who bought it with so great a price, Heaven could no higher give: -- Till at the trumpet's sound, When soul and body meet, They twain are one again, and found In Christ, a saint complete. By His good Spirit taught, While train'd on earth, may we Be thus by grace to glory brought, And immortality. |