She has chosen the world and its paltry crowd;
She has chosen the world and an endless shroud!
She has chosen the world with its misnamed pleasures;
She has chosen the world before heaven’s own treasures!
She hath launched her boat on life’s giddy sea,
And her all is afloat for eternity;
But Bethlehem’s star is not in her view,
And her aim is far from the harbor true.
When the storm descends from an angry sky,
Ah, where from the winds shall the vessel fly, —
When stars are concealed and rudder gone,
And heaven is sealed to the wandering one?
The whirlpool gapes for the gallant prize,
And with all her hopes to the deep she hies;
But who may tell of the place of woe
Where the wicked dwell, where the worldlings go?
For the human heart can ne’er conceive
What joys are the lot of them who believe;
Nor can justly think of the cup of death
Which all must drink who despise the faith.
Away, then, oh fly from the joys of earth!
Her smile is a lie, there’s a sting in her mirth! —
Come, leave the dreams of this transient night,
And bask in the beams of an endless light.