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
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