O, what is life?--'tis like a flower
That blossoms and is gone;
It flourishes its little hour,
With all its beauty on:
Death comes, and, like a wintry day,
It cuts the lovely flower away.
O, what is life?--'tis like the bow
That glistens in the sky:
We love to see its colors glow;
But, while we look, they die:
Life fails as soon:--to-day 'tis here;
To-morrow it may disappear.
Lord, what is life?--if spent with thee
In humble praise and prayer,
How long or short our life may be,
We feel no anxious care:
Though life depart, our joys shall last
When life and all its joys are past.
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