On Time. Three Songs for Barytone

Ah fading joy, how quickly art thou past!
  Yet we thy ruine haste:
As if the Cares of Humane Life were few,
  We seek out new,
And follow Fate that does 1 too fast pursue.
 
See how on ev'ry Bough the Birds express
  In their sweet notes their happiness.
  They all enjoy and nothing spare;
But on their Mother Nature lay their care:
Why then should Man, the Lord of all below,
  Such troubles chuse to know,
As none of all his Subjects undergo?
 
Hark, hark, the Waters fall, fall, fall
  And with a Murmuring sound
  Dash, dash, upon the ground,
    To gentle slumbers call.

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Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race,   
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,   
Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace;   
And glut thy self with what thy womb devours,   
Which is no more then what is false and vain,  
And meerly mortal dross;   
So little is our loss,   
So little is thy gain.   
For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd,   
And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd,
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss   
With an individual kiss;   
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,   
When every thing that is sincerely good   
And perfectly divine,  
With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine   
About the supreme Throne   
Of him, t'whose happy-making sight alone,   
When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall clime,   
Then all this Earthy grosnes quit,  
Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit,   
  Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.