Thee We Adore Eternal Name
Thee, we adore, eternal name,
And humbly own to thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we!
Our wasting lives grow shorter still,
As months and days increase,
And ev’ry beating pulse we tell,
Leaves but the number less.
The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath that first it gave;
Whate’er we do, whate’er we be,
We’re trav’ling to the grave.
Dangers stand thick through all the ground,
To push us to the tomb;
And fierce diseases wait around,
To hurry mortals home.
Infinite joy, or wretched woe,
Attends on ev’ry breath;
And yet how unconcerned we go,
Upon the brink of death!
Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,
To walk this dang’rous road;
And if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God.