3 So blooms the human face divine,
When youth its pride and beauty shows;
Fairer than spring the colors shine,
And sweeter than the virgin rose.
4 Or worn by slowly rolling years,
Or broke by sickness in a day,
The fading glory disappears,
The short-lived beauties die away.
5 Yet these, new-rising from the tomb,
With luster brighter far shall shine;