Never work another ill.
When the hours have ceased to run,
’Tis man, not Time, whose race is done.
Like smoke, my hours are quickly gone,
With only ashes left to mourn.
Scarce with a smile I greet anew,
Ere I do bid again adieu.
The shadows rise, the shadows fall,
Man sees but part, though God sees all.
Husband thy hours with due care,