Come, let us now for­get our mirth,
And think that we must die:
What are our best de­lights on earth,
Compared with those on high?

A sad and sin­ful world is this,
Although it seems so fair;
But Hea­ven is per­fect joy and bliss,
For God Him­self is there.

Here all our plea­sures soon are past,
Our bright­est joys de­cay;
But plea­sures there for ev­er last,
And can not fade away.

Here many a pain and bit­ter groan
Our fee­ble bo­dies tear;
But pain and sick­ness are not known,
And ne­ver shall be, there.

Here sins and sor­rows we de­plore
With ma­ny cares dis­tressed;
But there the mourn­ers weep no more,
And there the wea­ry rest.

Our dear­est friends when death shall call,
At once must hence de­part;
But there we hope to meet them all,
And ne­ver, ne­ver part.

Then let us love and serve the Lord
With all our youth­ful pow­ers,
And we shall gain this great re­ward,
This glo­ry shall be ours.