O how cheating, O how fleeting
All—yes! all that’s earthly!
Every thing is fading—flying—
Man is mortal—earth is dying—
Christian! live on Heav’n relying.
The same writer truly pictures our fearful estate, if we heed not the silent progress of “the enemy,” that by proper attention we may convert into a friend.—
Time.
On! on! our moments hurry by
Like shadows of a passing cloud,
Till general darkness wraps the sky,
And man sleeps senseless in his shroud.
He sports, he trifles time away,
Till time is his to waste no more.
Heedless he hears the surges play;
And then is dash’d upon the shore.
He has no thought of coming days,
Though they alone deserve his thought
And so the heedless wanderer strays,
And treasures nought and gathers nought.
Though wisdom speak—his ear is dull;
Though virtue smile—he sees her not;
His cup of vanity is full;
And all besides forgone—forgot.
These “memorabilia” are from a three-shilling volume, entitled “Hymns, by John Bowring,” intended as a sequel to the “Matins and Vespers.” Mr. Bowring does not claim that his “little book” shall supply the place of similar productions. “If it be allowed,” he says, “to add any thing to the treasures of our devotional poetry; if any of its pages should be hereafter blended with the exercises of domestic and social worship; or if it shall be the companion of meditative solitude, the writer will be more than rewarded.” All this gentleman’s poetical works, diversified as they are, tend “to mend the heart.”