Classic Poem

O, HOW wretched, Lord, are they,
More than I can think or say,
Who, though parts of Thy design,
Seek another end than Thine!

What a host of phantoms vain
Throngs the busy worldling's brain!
On the puppet of an hour
Wasting an immortal power!

How can I enough lament
All the years that I have spent
At a distance, Lord, from Thee,
Feeding still on vanity!

Hence, away, delusive dreams!
Idle fancies, empty schemes!
Worldly friendships, ever brief
Joys that terminate in grief!

I have learnt at last to know
My true portion here below;
Other hearts for you may pine,
You shall have no share in mine.