As long as life its term extends,

Hope’s blest dominion never ends;

For while the lamp holds on to burn,

The greatest sinner may return.

Life is the season God both giv’n

To fly from hell, and rise to heav’n;

That day of grace fleets fast away,

And none its rapid course can stay.

The living know that they must die;

But all the dead forgotten lie:

Their mem’ry and their name is gone,

Alike unknowing and unknown.

Their hatred and their love is lost,

Their envy buried in the dust;

They have no share in all that’s done

Beneath the circuit of the sun.

Then what thy thoughts design to do,

Still let thy bands with might pursue;

Since no device nor work is found,

Nor wisdom underneath the ground.

In the cold grave, to which we haste,

There are no acts of pardon past:

But fixed the doom of all remains,

And everlasting silence reigns.