The grass and flowers, which clothe the field

Verse 1

The grass and flowers, which clothe the field, And look so green and gay; Touched by the scythe, defenseless yield, And fall, and fade away.

Verse 2

Fit emblem of our mortal state! Thus in the scripture glass, The young, the strong, the wise, the great, May see themselves but grass.

Verse 3

Ah! trust not to your fleeting breath, Nor call your time your own; Around you see the scythe of death Is mowing thousands down.

Verse 4

And you, who hitherto are spared, Must shortly yield your lives; Your wisdom is to be prepared, Before the stroke arrives.

Verse 5

The grass, when dead, revives no more: You die to live again; Beware lest death should prove the door To everlasting pain.

Verse 6

Lord, help us to obey thy call, And all our sins remove, That when like grass our bodies fall, Our souls may rise above.