Hymn CLII. Common Metre. On the Death of a Child

Life is a span, a fleeting hour, How soon the vapour flies! Man is a tender transient flower That in the blooming dies.

Death spreads, like winter, frozen arms And beauty smiles no more; Where, now are fled those rising charms Which pleas'd our eyes before?

The once lov'd form now cold and dead Each mournful thought employs, And nature weeps her comforts fled And wither'd all her joys.

But wait the interposing gloom And lo! stern winter flies! And drest in beauty's fairest bloom, The flowery tribes arise.

Hope looks beyond the bounds of time, When, what we now deplore Shall rise in full immortal prime, And bloom, to fade no more.

Then cease, fond nature, dry thy tears, Religion points on high; There everlasting spring appears, And joys that never die.