The hour of justice does not strike
On the dials of this world.
[Fr., L'heure de la read more

The hour of justice does not strike
On the dials of this world.
[Fr., L'heure de la justice ne sonne pas
Aux cadrans de ce monde.]
- Maurice Maeterlinck, Measure of the Hours,

The Natural Clock-work by the might One
Wound up at first, and ever since have gone.

The Natural Clock-work by the might One
Wound up at first, and ever since have gone.

Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed;
Once I went back when a good monarch prayed;
read more

Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed;
Once I went back when a good monarch prayed;
Mortals, howe'er we grieve, howe'er deplore,
The flying shadow will return no more.

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!

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.

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.

Live ye, he says, I flee.

Live ye, he says, I flee.

Give God thy heart, thy service, and thy gold; The day wears on,
and time is waxing old.
read more

Give God thy heart, thy service, and thy gold; The day wears on,
and time is waxing old.
- Unattributed Author,

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.