'Tis not thy Youth, thy Wealth nor Strength,
Can add to Life one Moments length.
God is as Merciful as Just,
Cleanse our Hearts, since die we must:
Sweet Temptations of worldly Joys,
Makes for our Grief, and our Peace destroys,
Think then when Man his Race has run,
Death is the Prize which he has won.
Sure there's none so absurd and odd,
To think with the Fool there is no God;