For the world is grown old, and judgment is near!
The king on his throne, the bride in her bower,
The children of pleasure all feel the sad hour;
The roses are faded, and tasteless the cheer;
For the world is grown old, and judgment is near!
The world is grown old, but should we complain
Who have tried her, and know that her promise is vain;
Our heart is in heaven, our home is not here,
And we look for our crown when judgment is near.
Bishop Heber.