The Shortness of Life.
1Like shadows gliding o'er the plain,
Or clouds that roll successive on,
Man's busy generations pass,
And while we gaze their forms are gone.
2"He lived,--he died;" behold the sum,
The abstract of the historian's page!
Alike, in God's all-seeing eye,
The infant's day, the patriarch's age.
3O Father! in whose mighty hand