charles villiers stanford - on time, op 142 lyrics
fly envious time, till thou run out thy race
call on the lazy leaden+stepping hours
whose speed is but the heavy plummet’s pace;
and glut thy self with what thy womb devours
which is no more than what is false and vain
and merely 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 grossness quit
attir’d with stars, we shall for ever sit
triumphing over death, and chance, and thee, o time
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