Our Joy in a Created Good

Our joy in a cre­at­ed good

How soon it fades away

Fades

at the morn­ing hour be­stowed

Before the noon of day.

Joy

by its vio­lent ex­cess

To cer­tain ru­in tends

And all our rap­tur­ous hap­pi­ness

In has­ty sor­row ends.

In vain doth earth­ly bliss af­ford

A mo­ment­ary shade;

It ris­es like the pro­phet’s gourd

And wi­thers o’er my head.

But of my Sav­ior’s love pos­sessed

No more for earth I pine;

Secure of ev­er­last­ing rest

Beneath the heav’n­ly vine.