William Billings - Worcester - ноты, текст песни (слова)

How short and hasty is our life!
 How vast our souls' affairs!
 Yet senseless mortals vainly strive
 To lavish out their years.
 
 Our days run thoughtlessly along,
 Without a moment's stay;
 Just like a story or a song
 We pass our lives away.
 
 God from on high invites us home,
 But we march heedless on,
 And ever hastening to the tomb,
 Stoop downwards as we run.
 
 How we deserve the deepest hell,
 That slight the joys above!
 What chains of vengeance should we feel,
 That break such cords of love!
 
 Draw us, O God, with sovereign grace,
 And lift our thoughts on high,
 That we may end this mortal race,
 And see salvation nigh.