A child, a youth, a man, The whole of life below! Our time a breath, our course a span; Whence come we? whither go? | Whence come we?--From the womb Of dark eternity; And thither go we, through the tomb,-- Behold a mystery! | 217 For though with worms and dust His mortal relics lie, Death may not hold or harm the just; The spirit cannot die. | On angels' wings afar, 'Tis, by a path unknown, Beyond the range of sun or star, Caught up before the throne:-- | At rest in Paradise, With Him in bliss to live, Who bought it with so great a price, Heaven could no higher give:-- | Till at the trumpet's sound, When soul and body meet, They twain are one again, and found In Christ, a saint complete. | By His good Spirit taught, While train'd on earth, may we Be thus by grace to glory brought, And immortality. | |