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HYMN 164

515

C. M.

The end of the world.

Why should this earth delight us so?

Why should we fix our eyes

On these low grounds where sorrows grow,

And every pleasure dies ?

While time his sharpest teeth prepares

Our comforts to devour,

There is a land above the stars,

And joys above his power.

Nature shall be dissolved and die,

The sun must end his race,

The earth and sea for ever fly

Before my Savior's face.

When will that glorious morning rise?

When the last trumpet sound,

And call the nations to the skies,

From underneath the ground?

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