Naked as from the earth we came,
And crept to life at first,
We to this earth return again,
And mingle with our dust.
The dear delights we here enjoy,
And fondly call our own,
Are but short favors borrow’d now,
To be repaid anon.

‘Tis God that lifts our comforts high,
Or sinks them in the grave;
He gives, and, blessed be his name!
He takes but what he gave.
If smiling mercy crown our lives,
Its praises shall be spread;
And we’ll adore the justice too
That strikes our comforts dead.

Recordings 1