My soul with comfort overflows,
In spite of all my numerous foes;
And thou with richness hast, O Lord!
And plenty crown'd my crowded board.
His precious balms, my God hath shed,
Upon my highly favoured head:
And with the blessings of the Lord,
My larder is completely stor'd.
His bounty and his mercies past,
Shall follow me unto the last;
And, for his favours shown to me,
His house, my home shall ever be.
To God, the Father--and the Son--
And Holy Spirit--Three-in-one,
Let us our bounden homage pay,
Each hour, each moment of the day!
SHORT IS THE LIFE OF MAN.
BY REV. REES PRICHARD, M.A.
TRANSLATED BY THE REV. W. EVANS.
Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies,
Or, like a tender flow'ret, droops and dies,
Or, like a race, it ends without delay,
Or, like a vapour, vanishes away,
Or, like a candle, in each moment wastes,
Or, like a packet under sail, it hastes,
Or, like a courier, travels very fast,
Or, like the shadow of a cloud, 'tis past.
Strong is our foe, but very weak the fort,
Our death is certain, and our time is short;
But as the hour of death's a secret still,
Let us be ready, come He when he will.
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