Time, with an Unwearied Hand

Time

with an un­we­aried hand

Pushes round the sea­sons past

And in life’s frail glass

the sand

Sinks apace

not long to last:

Many

well as you or I

Who last year as­sem­bled thus;

In their si­lent graves now lie

Graves will op­en soon for us!

Daily sin

and care

and strife

While the Lord pro­longs our breath

Make it but a dy­ing life

Or a kind of liv­ing death:

Wretched they

and most for­lorn

Who no bet­ter por­tion know;

Better ne’er to have been born

Than to have our all be­low.

When con­strained to go alone

Leaving all you love be­hind;

Entering on a world un­known

What will then sup­port your mind?

When the Lord His sum­mons sends

Earthly com­forts lose their pow­er;

Honors

rich­es

kin­dred

friends

Cannot cheer a dy­ing hour.

Happy souls who fear the Lord!

Time is not too swift for you;

When your Sav­ior gives the word

Glad you’ll bid the world adieu:

Then He’ll wipe away your tears

Near Him­self ap­point your place;

Swifter fly

ye roll­ing years

Lord

we long to see Thy face.