Hymnal: The Pilgrim's Song
Date: 1814
Compiler: Elias Smith
Publisher/Printer: Elias Smith
First Line: Hearken ye sprightly and attend ye vain ones
Topic: <no topic given>
Writer: <no first name given> <no last name given>
Composer:
Tune:
Hymn Number: 14
Page Number: 019, click to see hymnal pages
LyicsHearken, ye sprightly! And attend ye vain ones;
Pause in your mirth; adversity consider;
Learn from a friend's pen, sentimental, painful
Sick bed reflections.
Healthful and gay, like you, I spent my moments,
Boldy my heart said, joy should last forever;
But I'd forgotten man has no enjoyment,
But by permission.
Sudden and awful, from the height of pleasure,
By pain and sickness, thrown upon this down bed;
Vain is its softness, to assuage the pain of
Raging disorder.
Kindest attention of my friends most humane,
With the profound skill of a kind physician;
All still are baffled, while distressing anguish
Tortures my whole frame.
Vain are my groanings, all complaints are fruitless,
Changing my place, cannot abate my fever;
Here, like a reptile on a bed of embers,
Turning I languish.
Hopes of recov'ry my fond heart indulged,
Till my physician, to my great amazement,
Kindly informed me, that my case was desp'rate,
Death swift approaching.
Wonders on wonders, to my view now open,
Life is receding, to the grave I'm hast'ning;
Am I prepared? This dread moment must I
Meet my Creator?
Twenty-five years I've spent without consid'ring
Man was a mortal, pendant on amoment;
Life but a shadow, time a flying arrow,
Quick to dispel it.
Oft have I listen'd, while death bells were tolling,
Seen the graves open'd with spectators mourning;
But was myself, in spite of all these warnings,
Long life expecting.
Counsel I've slighted, warnings I've neglected;
In my gay moments, thoughts of death I banish'd;
When grown gray headed, I have oft resolved,
Death to prepare for.
Time in advance, to me seem'd moving slowly,
Days without number, I propos'd for pleasure;
But they are blasted. Now behold the end of
Procrastination.
Tortur'd in body, not a limb escapes it,
No sweet composure, to direct one prayer;
All is distorted, yet my state eternal,
Now is depending.
Oh! ghastly death! Pray stop one single moment,
While I give warning to my gay companions;
No time is granted for expostulation,
Shun my example.