The Rich Sinner's Death, and the Saint's Resurrection

Verse 1

Why do the proud insult the poor, And boast the large estates they have! How vain are riches to secure Their haughty owners from the grave!

Verse 2

They can’t redeem one hour from death With all the wealth in which they trust; Nor give a dying brother breath, When God commands him down to dust.

Verse 3

There the dark earth and dismal shade Shall clasp their naked bodies round; That flesh so delicately fed, Lies cold, and molders in the ground.

Verse 4

Like thoughtless sheep the sinner dies, And leaves his glories in the tomb; The saints shall in the morning rise, And find th’oppressor's awful doom.

Verse 5

His honours perish in the dust, And pomp and beauty, birth and blood; That glorious day exalts the just To full dominion o’er the proud.

Verse 6

My Saviour shall my life restore And raise me from my dark abode; My flesh and soul shall part no more, But dwell for ever near my God.