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Ah? tell me, what avails it now, That he was great and wise?—Can greatness smooth that ruffled brow, Or check those lab'ring sighs?
Can all the aid that man may give, The failing pulse restore;Or bid the wretched sinner live For one short moment more!
He would attempt—but all in vain— To lift his hopes on high!Repentance weeps in fruitless pain, And judgment threatens nigh.
Now conscience wakes the ling'ring smart, And bids delusion cease;Remorse and terror rend his heart, And agonize his peace.
The world, and all he trusted there, Is fading from his sight;And closing fast in dread despair, His eyes are dim with night.
The stubborn knees, that would not bow In pray'r before his God,Are stiff, and cold as marble now, Beneath the silent sod.
