I mark my hours by shadow;
Mayest thou mark thine
By sunshine.

I mark my hours by shadow;
Mayest thou mark thine
By sunshine.

I go away and come again each day,
But thou shalt go away and ne'er return.

I go away and come again each day,
But thou shalt go away and ne'er return.

True as the dial to the sun,
Although it be not shin'd upon.

True as the dial to the sun,
Although it be not shin'd upon.

O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To read more

O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes, how they run--
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live;
When this is known, then to divide the times--
So many hours must I tend my flock,
So many hours must I take my rest,
So many hours must I contemplate,
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,
So many months ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
Passed over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this!

Live ye, he says, I flee.

Live ye, he says, I flee.

Let others tell of storms and showers,
I'll only mark your sunny hours.

Let others tell of storms and showers,
I'll only mark your sunny hours.

If o'er the dial glides a shade, redeem
The time for lo! it passes like a dream;
read more

If o'er the dial glides a shade, redeem
The time for lo! it passes like a dream;
But if 'tis all a blank, then mark the loss
Of hours unblest by shadows from the cross.

Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your
wrath: Neither give place to read more

Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your
wrath: Neither give place to the devil.

Our life's a flying shadow, God's the pole,
The index pointing at Him is our soul;
Death read more

Our life's a flying shadow, God's the pole,
The index pointing at Him is our soul;
Death the horizon, when our sun is set,
Which will through Christ a resurrection get.