Hymns

Time, what an empty vapor 'tis!

by Isaac Watts·1707·Meter 8.6.8.6 (CM)

1

Time, what an empty vapor 'tis!
And days, how swift they are!
Swift as an Indian arrow flies,
Or like a shooting star.

2

The present moments just appear,
Then slide away in haste,
That we can never say, "They're here,"
But only say, "They're past."

3

Our life is ever on the wing,
And death is ever nigh;
The moment when our lives begin
We all begin to die.

4

Yet, mighty God! our fleeting days
Thy lasting favors share,
Yet with the bounties of thy grace
Thou load'st the rolling year.

5

'Tis sovereign mercy finds us food,
And we are clothed with love;
While grace stands pointing out the road
That leads our souls above.

6

His goodness runs an endless round;
All glory to the Lord!
His mercy never knows a bound,
And be his name adored!

7

Thus we begin the lasting song;
And when we close our eyes,
Let the next age thy praise prolong,
Till time and nature dies.