The World Is Grown Old

The world is grown old

and her plea­sures are past;

The world is grown old

and her form may not last;

The world is grown old

and trem­bles for fear;

For sor­rows ab­ound

and judg­ment is near!

The sun in the heav­en is lang­uid and pale

And fee­ble and few are the fruits of the vale;

The hearts of the na­tions all fail them for fear

The world is grown old

and judg­ment is near!

The king on his throne

the bride in her bow­er

The children of plea­sure all feel the sad hour;

The ros­es are fad­ed

and taste­less the cheer

The world is grown old

and judg­ment is near!

The world is grown old

but should we com­plain?

We tried her and know that her pro­mis­es are vain.

Our heart is in Heav­en

our home is not here:

We look for our crown when judg­ment is near!