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.

Great God!

Thy sovereign grace impart,

with cleansing, healing power;

this only can prepare the heart

for death’s surprising hour.

Ann Steele. England (1717-1778)