“’Tis not for man to trifle! Life is brief,
And sin is here;
Our age is but the falling of a leaf,
A dropping tear.
We have no time to sport away the hours,
All must be earnest in a world like ours.
“Not many lives, but only one have we,
One, only one,
How sacred should that one life ever be,
That narrow span!
Day after day filled up with blessed toil,
Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil.
“Our being is no shadow of thin air,
No vacant dream,
No fable of the things that never were
But only seem;
‘Tis full of meaning as of mystery,
Though strange and solemn may that meaning be.”
And sin is here;
Our age is but the falling of a leaf,
A dropping tear.
We have no time to sport away the hours,
All must be earnest in a world like ours.
“Not many lives, but only one have we,
One, only one,
How sacred should that one life ever be,
That narrow span!
Day after day filled up with blessed toil,
Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil.
“Our being is no shadow of thin air,
No vacant dream,
No fable of the things that never were
But only seem;
‘Tis full of meaning as of mystery,
Though strange and solemn may that meaning be.”
“Duty may regulate the hours of life towards others. Love takes charge of its moments.”
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