As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.@Psalm 103 15-16
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Horatius Bonar (1808-1889)

Horatius Bonar, Hymns of Faith and Hope (London: James Nisbet, 1857), pages 241-42.

St. George (Gauntlett) Henry J. Gauntlett, 1848 (🔊 pdf nwc).

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Henry J. Gauntlett (1805-1876)
© National Portrait Gallery

Make haste, O man, to live,
For thou so soon must die;
Time hurries past thee like the breeze;
How swift its moments fly!

To breathe, and wake, and sleep,
To smile, to sigh, to grieve;
To move in idleness through earth,
This, this is not to live!

Make haste, O man, to do
Whatever must be done;
Thou hast no time to lose in sloth,
Thy day will soon be gone.

Up, then, with speed, and work;
Fling ease and self away;
This is no time for thee to sleep,
Up, watch, and work, and pray!

The useful, not the great,
The thing that never dies,
The silent toil that is not lost—
Set these before thine eyes.

The seed, whose leaf and flower,
Though poor in human sight,
Bring forth at last th’eternal fruit,
Sow thou by day and night.

Make haste, O man, to live,
Thy time is almost o’er;
O sleep not, dream not, but arise,
The Judge is at the door!