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

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

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

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