And when at last thine eye shall close in death,
Thy life, we know, through Christ's atoning blood,
Shall be where God outbeams light's endless flood.
59. HAPPY OLD AGE. [(notes)]
'Tis good our destin'd course in life to run,
New forms of beauty bursting on the sight,
The clouds soon gone, that bring a feeble night,
Still holding on our way, like glorious sun.
What noble prize has sluggishness e'er won?