When blooming youth is snatched away
by death’s resistless hand,
our hearts the mournful tribute pay
which pity must demand.
While pity prompts the rising sigh,
o may this truth, impress’d
with awful power,
-“I too must die”
sink deep in every breast.
Let this vain world engage no more;
behold the gaping tomb!
It bids us seize the present hour,
tomorrow death may come.
The voice of this alarming scene,
may every heart obey;
nor be the heavenly warning vain,
which calls to watch and pray.
Oh, let us fly -to Jesus fly,
whose powerful arm can save;
then shall our hopes ascend on high,
and triumph o’er the grave.
Thy sovereign grace impart,
with cleansing, healing power;
this only can prepare the heart
for death’s surprising hour.
Ann Steele. England (1717-1778)