Short Is The Life Of Man

Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies,

Or, like a tender flow'ret, droops and dies,

Or, like a race, it ends without delay,

Or, like a vapour, vanishes away,

Or, like a candle, in each moment wastes,

Or, like a packet under sail, it hastes,

Or, like a courier, travels very fast,

Or, like the shadow of a cloud, 'tis past.

Strong is our foe, but very weak the fort,

Our death is certain, and our time is short;

But as the hour of death's a secret still,

Let us be ready, come He when he will.