The misery of being without God in this world; or,
Vain prosperity.
1 O, I shall envy them no more
Who grow profanely great,
Tho' they increase their golden store,
And rise to wondrous height.
2 They taste of all the joys that grow
Upon this earthly clod,
Well they may search the creature thro',
For they have ne'er a God.
3 Shake off the thoughts of dying too,
And think your life your own;
But death comes hastening on to you
To mow your glory down.
4 Yes, you must bow your stately head,
Away your spirit flies,
And no kind angel near your bed
To bear it to the skies.
5 Go now, and boast of all your stores,
And tell how bright you shine;
Your heaps of glittering dust are yours,
And my Redeemer's mine.
Hymn 2:57.
The pleasures of a good conscience.
1 Lord, how secure and bless'd are they
Who feel the joys of pardon'd sin!
Should storms of wrath shake earth and sea,
Their minds have heaven and peace within.
2 The day glides sweetly o'er their heads,
Made up of innocence and love;
And soft and silent as the shades
Their nightly minutes gently move.
3 [Quick as their thoughts their joys come on,
But fly not half so fast away;
Their souls are ever bright as noon,
And calm as summer evenings be.
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