How vain are all things here below!
by Isaac Watts·1707·Meter 8.6.8.6 (CM)
Based on Col 3:2
1
How vain are all things here below!
How false, and yet how fair!
Each pleasure hath its poison too,
And every sweet a snare.
2
The brightest things below the sky
Give but a flatt'ring light;
We should suspect some danger nigh
Where we possess delight.
3
Our dearest joys, and nearest friends,
The partners of our blood,
How they divide our wav'ring minds,
And leave but half for God!
4
The fondness of a creature's love,
How strong it strikes the sense!
Thither the warm affections move,
Nor can we call them thence.
5
Dear Savior! let thy beauties be
My soul's eternal food;
And grace command my heart away
From all created good.