Days and mo­ments quick­ly fly­ing
Blend the liv­ing with the dead;
Soon our bo­dies will be ly­ing
Each with­in its nar­row bed.

Soon our souls to God who gave them
Will have sped their ra­pid flight:
Able now by grace to save them,
O that, while we can, we might!

Jesus, in­fi­nite Re­deem­er,
Maker of this migh­ty frame,
Teach, O teach us to re­mem­ber
What we are, and whence we came.

Whence we came and whi­ther wend­ing,
Soon we must through dark­ness go,
To in­her­it bliss un­end­ing,
Or eter­ni­ty of woe.

Jesus, mer­ci­ful Re­deem­er,
Rouse dead souls to hear Thy voice;
Wake, O wake each idle dream­er
Now to make the eter­nal choice.

As a sha­dow, life is fleet­ing;
As a va­por so it flies;
For the old year now re­treat­ing
Pardon grant, and make us wise;

Wise that we our days may num­ber,
Strive and wres­tle with our sin,
Say not in our work, nor slum­ber
Till Thy glo­ri­ous rest we win.

Soon before the Judge all glo­ri­ous
We with all the dead shall stand:
Savior, ov­er death vic­to­ri­ous,
Place us then on Thy right hand.