Up, then, with speed, and work;
Fling ease and self away—
This is no time for thee to sleep—
Up, watch, and work, and pray!
My God, help me always resolutely to strive, and, through life and death, to force my way unto Thee.
EARTH.
This poor world, the object of so much insane attachment, we are about to leave; it is but misery, vanity, and folly; a phantom,—the very fashion of which "passeth away."
We are pilgrims, not settlers; this earth is our inn, not our home.
Build your nest upon no tree here, for ye see that God hath sold the forest to death.
Too low they build who build beneath the stars.
Our earthly possessions will indeed perish in the final wreck of all things; but let the ship perish, let all we have sink in the deep, if we may come "safe to land." From these storms and billows—these dangerous seas—these tempestuous voyages—may we all be brought at last, safe to heaven.
