STANZAS, ETC.
17
Behold, the gorgeous vision flies:
See, see the last expiring ray!—
O, why the passing glory prize,
Nor think on realms of endless day?
See, see the last expiring ray!—
O, why the passing glory prize,
Nor think on realms of endless day?
Morn yields to Noon, and Noon to Eve.—
O Father! let my heart be placed
Less on the world I soon must leave,
And more on that to which I haste.
O Father! let my heart be placed
Less on the world I soon must leave,
And more on that to which I haste.
