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.