The Grass Withereth, the Flower Fadeth, but the Word of Our God Shall Stand Forever

The Grass Withereth, the Flower Fadeth, but the Word of Our God Shall Stand Forever

How beautiful, in morning's hour,

The blade of emerald green,

Whereupon the drops of pearly dew

In silver radiance gleam!

It seems as if it shadowed forth

The Christian's holy love:

For though of earth, it ever looks

Unto the sky above.

But ah, it fades! - like all below,

A few short days its bound;

And where it springs in nature's green,

It withers to the ground;

The gentle dews may lightly fall,

The soft winds murmur by,

They cannot bring to life again,

That which was born to die.

And beauteous are the flowers that deck

The valley's lowly sod -

A fitting gift for earth to crown

The altar of her God;

For O, there seems an innocence

To cling around each flower,

That speaks of man's lost purity,

And Eden's blessed bower.

But beauty here may not defy

The stern assaults of time,

And still around earth's noblest fane

The ivy will entwine;

E'en so the flower, whose blushing tints

Are those of evening's sky,

Will fade in all its lovliness -

In all its beauty, die.

Not thus, not thus, thy word, O God,

Thy still unchanging word:

For, stamped in truth, it ever bears

The impress of its Lord;

The glorious promises it brings

Dread not the touch of time;

Eternal and immutable,

We feel that they are thine.

That blessed word, that blessed word,

Hath an enduring power,

To cheer us in our loneliness,

To glad our dying hour;

It leads us through life's weary ways,

By paths that saints have trod,

And then resigns us with a smile

Into the arms of God.

Ion

New Series 1:40, p. 4

1840.12.05

From the Churchman