874
C. M. peculiar.
The fashion of this world, etc.
1 Cor. 7:31.
This world is poor from shore to shore,
And, like a baseless vision,
Its lofty domes and brilliant ore,
Its gems and crowns are vain and poor;
There’s nothing rich but heaven.
2 Empires decay, and nations die,
Our hopes to winds, are given;
The vernal blooms in ruin lie,
Death reigns o’er all beneath the sky;
There’s nothing sure but heaven.
3 Creation’s mighty fabric all
Shall be to atoms riven—
The skies consume, the planets fall,
Convulsions rock this earthly ball;
There’s nothing firm but heaven.
4 A stranger, lonely here I roam,
From place to place am driven;
My friends are gone, and I’m in gloom,
This earth is all a dismal tomb;
I have no home but heaven.
5 The clouds disperse—the light appears,
My sins are all forgiven;
Triumphant grace has quelled my fears:
Roll on, thou sun! fly swift, my years!
I’m on my way to heaven.
Nelson.