We take but little note of time,
Nor prize the present day;
Revolving suns, in course sublime,
For man will not delay.
We, from the cradle, wander forth,
And leave our mother's side
With swelling hopes of little worth
And think the world is wide
But hark, the message from above
Proclaims, "The time is short;"
Know, youth, it is the voice of love,
Why will you longer sport.
O, let this admonition kind,
This message from above,
Sink deep in every heart and mind,—
'Twas sent to us in love.
When time is done with us below,
Our souls can never die,
But will partake of joy or woe,
Beyond the human eye.
Then let us seize this little space,
The time to gain the prize,
That will be found by men of grace,
The virtuous and wise.
The Son of God, whose blood was spilt
To wash our sins away,
Was a great sacrifice for guilt,
Which we could never pay.
For this, our gratitude we owe
Forever to the Lord;
Then let our lips and lives, e'er show
We love His sacred word.
O for a heart to grow in grace,
To live for Christ alone;
To muse on heaven, that resting place,
To know as we are known.
