What is human life below?

Passing show!

Vapour, smoke, and fleeting shade:

Man, when few short years have flown

Is cut down,

As by scythe the springing blade:

Years roll on, and make no stay;

Ponder, Man, thy latter day.

Man is like to fragile glass,

Fading grass,

Flower whose petals soon are strewn:

Ah! how quickly rest of strength,

When at length

Death’s cold wind has o’er him blown!

Years roll on, and make no stay;

Ponder, Man, thy latter day.

Youth, to which we may compare

Roses fair,

Pales, and must its charms forego:

All that men of pomp or state,

Highest rate,

Soon shall be by death laid low:

Years roll on, and make no stay;

Ponder, Man, thy latter day.

Man’s the mark at which take aim,

Like some game,

Darts which death unerring plies;

Though like cedar fair outspread,

Soars his head,

Felled by death, he lifeless lies:

Years roll on, and make no stay;

Ponder, Man, thy latter day.

Death is that which must befall

Great and small;

Banish trivial cares of earth:

Far beyond the things of time

Thou must climb,

Wouldst thou win immortal birth:

Years roll on, and make no stay;

Ponder, Man, thy latter day.

Let thine heart oft contemplate

That high state,

Where no grief shall come, or pain:

Let this theme thy soul employ,

Heavenly joy,

Wouldst thou once that joy obtain:

Years roll on, and make no stay;

Ponder, Man, thy latter day.