1 In vain the wealthy mortals toil,
And heap their shining dust in vain;
Look down and scorn the humble poor,
And boast their lofty hills of gain.
2 Their golden cordials cannot ease
Their pained hearts or aching heads,
Nor fright nor bribe approaching death
From glittering roofs and downy beds.
3 The ling'ring, the unwilling soul,
The dismal summons must obey,
And bid a long, a sad farewell
To the pale lump of lifeless clay.
4 Thence they are huddled to the grave,
Where kings and slaves have equal thrones;
Their bones without distinction lie,
Amongst the heap of meaner bones.
(The rest referred to Psalm 49)
Text Information | |
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First Line: | In vain the wealthy mortals toil |
Title: | The rich sinner dying |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1793 |
Scripture: | ; ; ; |