v.47ff <br />8,8,8,8,8,8 <br />Life, death, and the resurrection. <br /> <br />Think, mighty God, on feeble man; <br />How few his hours! how short his span! <br />Short from the cradle to the grave <br />Who can secure his vital breath <br />Against the bold demands of death, <br />With skill to fly, or power to save? <br /> <br />Lord, shall it be for ever said, <br />"The race of man was only made <br />For sickness, sorrow, and the dust?" <br />Are not thy servants day by day <br />Sent to their graves, and turned to clay? <br />Lord, where's thy kindness to the just? <br /> <br />Hast thou not promised to thy Son <br />And all his seed a heav'nly crown? <br />But flesh and sense indulge despair: <br />For ever blessed be the Lord, <br />That faith can read his holy word, <br />And find a resurrection there. <br /> <br />For ever blessed be the Lord, <br />Who gives his saints a long reward <br />For all their toil, reproach, and pain: <br />Let all below and all above <br />Join to proclaim thy wondrous love, <br />And each repeat their loud Amen.<br /><br />Isaac Watts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/psalm-89-last-part/
