This Life

Change to this frame we all must see, all the plumes by time decays, merriment on earth a clip's illusion, All the dust we'll gather here, none can hold a single grain by different span on groaning plain, The pores of mortals sees the hues. There's no lasting glory here, these transitory sun-beams, bows to the power of time. fickle frame, a loan of a day, This life is no Life without Christ