Vanity Of The World

God gives his mercies to be spent;     Your hoard will do your soul no good;     Gold is a blessing only lent,     Repaid by giving others food.     The worlds esteem is but a bribe,     To buy their peace you sell your own;     The slave of a vain-glorious tribe,     Who hate you while they make you known.     The joy that vain amusements give,     Oh! sad conclusion that it brings!     The honey of a crowded hive,     Defended by a thousand stings.     Tis thus the world rewards the fools     That live upon her treacherous smiles:     She leads them blindfold by her rules,     And ruins all whom she beguiles.     God knows the thousands who go down     From pleasure into endless woe;     And with a long despairing groan     Blaspheme their Maker as they go.     O fearful thought! be timely wise:     Delight but in a Saviours charms,     And God shall take you to the skies,     Embraced in everlasting arms.