Our Days, Alas! Our Mortal Days

Verse 1

Our days, alas! our mortal days
Are short and wretched too;
“Evil and few,” the patriarch says, [1]
And well the patriarch knew.

Verse 2

’Tis but at best a narrow bound
That heaven allows to men,
And pains and sins run thro’ the round
Of threescore years and ten.

Verse 3

Well, if ye must be sad and few,
Run on, my days, in haste;
Moments of sin, and months of woe,
Ye cannot fly too fast.

Verse 4

Let heavenly love prepare my soul,
And call her to the skies,
Where years of long salvation roll,
And glory never dies.