Skip to main content
Author
CHAPTER III.

L O all things have their times, by God decreed
In nature's changes; all things which proceed
From man's intentions under the vast sky.
A time when to be born, a time to die:
A time to plant, to extirp; to kill, to cure:
A time to batter down, a time to immure:
A time of laughter, and a time to turn
Our smiles to tears: a time to dance, to mourn:
To scatter stones, to gather them again:
A time to embrace, embraces to refrain:
A time to get, to lose; to save, to spend:
To tear asunder, and the torn to mend:
A time to speak, from speaking to surcease:
A time for love, for hate; for war, for peace.
What good can human industry obtain,
When all things are so changeable and vain?
For God on man these various labours throws,
To afflict him with variety of woes.
He in their times all beautiful hath made;
The world into our narrow hearts convey'd:
Yet cannot they the causes apprehend
Of His great works; the original nor end.
What other good can man from these produce,
But to take pleasure in their present use?
To eat, to drink, t' enjoy what is our own,
Is such a gift as God bestows alone.
His purpose is eternal; nor can we
Add or subtract from His Divine decree:
That mortals might their bold attempts forbear,
And curb their wild affections by His fear.
What hath been, is; what shall be, was before;
And what is past, the Almighty will restore.
Besides, the seats of justice I survey'd,
There saw how favour and corruption sway'd.
Then said I in my heart, God surely shall
Reward the just; the unjust to judgment call.
All purposes and actions have their times:
A time for vengeance to pursue our crimes:
As much as sense concerns, God manifests
To men how little they dissent from beasts:
One end to both befalls; to equal death
Are liable, and breathe the self-same breath.
Then what pre-eminence hath man above
A beast; since both so transitory prove?
Both travel to one home, are earth, and must
Return to their originary dust.
Who knows that souls of men ascend the sky?
That those of beasts with their frail bodies die?
What mortal, then, can make so good a choice,
As in his own acquirements to rejoice?
This is his portion: for of things to come,
None can inform him in the grave's dark womb.
Rate this poem
No votes yet
Reviews
No reviews yet.