Hymn 55
William Cowper
8,8,8,8
Vanity of the world.
71 God gives his mercies to be spent; “Your hoard will do your soul no good: Gold is a blessing only lent, Repaid by giving others food. | The world’s esteem is but a bribe, To buy their peace you fell your own; The slave of a vain–glorious tribe, Who hate you while they make you known. | The Joy that vain amusements give, O! sad conclusion that it brings! The honey of a crowded hive, Defended by a thousand stings. | ’Tis thus the world rewards the fools That live upon her treach’rous smiles; She leads them, blindfold, by her rules, And ruins all whom she beguiles. | God knows the thousands who go down From pleasure, into endless woe; And with a long despairing groan Blaspheme their Maker as they go. | O fearful thought! be timely wise; Delight but in a Savior’s charms; And God shall take you to the skies, Embraced in everlasting arms. | |
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