A thousand ages in Thy sight Are like an evening gone; Short as the watch that ends the night Before the rising sun. - Isaac Watts

Were the whole realm of nature mine
That were an offering far too small
Love so amazing so divine
Demands my soul my life my all

A flower may fade before 'tis noon,
And I this day may lose my breath.

Why should our garments, made to hide
Our parents' shame, provoke our pride?
The art of dress did ne'er begin,
Till Eve our mother learn'd to sin. When first she put the covering on,
Her robe of innocence was gone;
And yet her children vainly boast
In the sad marks of glory lost.