2 Fresh as the grass our bodies stand,
And flourish bright and gay,
A blasting wind sweeps o'er the land,
And fades the grass away.
3 Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies if one be gone;
Strange! that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long.
4 But 'tis our God supports our frame,
The God that built us first;
Salvation to th' Almighty Name,
That rear'd us from the dust.
5 [He spoke, and straight our hearts and brains
In all their motions rose;
"Let blood, (said he) flow round the veins,"
And round the veins it flows.
6 While we have breath, or use our tongues,
Our Maker we'll adore;
His Spirit moves our heaving lungs
Or they would breathe no more.]
Hymn 2:20. Backslidings and returns; or, The inconstancy of our love.
1 Why is my heart so far from thee,
My God, my chief delight?
Why are my thoughts no more by day
With thee, no more by night?
2 [Why should my foolish passions rove?
Where can such sweetness be
As I have tasted in thy love;
As I have found in thee?]
3 When my forgetful soul renews
The savour of thy grace,
My heart presumes I cannot lose
The relish all my days.
4 But ere one fleeting hour is pass'd,
The flattering world employs
Some sensual bait to seize my taste,
And to pollute my joys.