1 Remember, Lord, our mortal state, How frail our life, how short the date! Where is the man that draws his breath Safe from disease, secure from death?
2 Lord, while we see whole nations die, Our flesh and sense repine and cry, "Must death for ever rage and reign? "Or hast thou made mankind in vain?
3 "Where is thy promise to the just? "Are not thy servants turn'd to dust?" But faith forbids these mournful sighs, And sees the sleeping dust arise.
4 That glorious hour, that dreadful day Wipes the reproach of saints away, And clears the honour of thy word; Awake our souls, and bless the Lord.