1 Naked as from the earth we came, And crept to life at first, We to the earth return again, And mingle with our dust.
2 The dear delights we here enjoy, And fondly call our own, Are but short favours borrow'd now, To be repaid anon.
3 'Tis God that lifts our comforts high, Or sinks them in the grave; He gives, and (blessed be his name!) He takes but what he gave.
4 Peace, all our angry passions, then, Let each rebellious sigh Be silent at his sov'reign will, And every murmur die.
5 If smiling mercy crown our lives, Its praises shall be spread; And we'll adore the justice too That strikes our comforts dead.