The Grass and Flow'Rs which Clothe the Field by John Newton

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I: The grass and flow'rs which clothe the field, / And look so green and gay, / Touch'd by the scythe, defenceless yield, / And fall and fade away.

II: Fit emblem of our mortal state!

Thus, in the Scripture glass, / The young, the strong, the wise, the great, / May see themselves but grass, / III: Ah! trust not to your fleeting breath, / Nor call your time your own; / Around you see the scythe of death / Is mowing thousands down.

IV: And you, who hitherto are spared, / Must shortly yield your lives; / Your wisdom is to be prepared / Before the stroke arrives.

V: The grass, when dead, revives no more; / You die to live again; / But oh! if death should prove the door / To everlasting pain!

VI: Lord, help us to obey thy call, / That from our sins set free, / When, like the grass, our bodies fall, / Our souls may spring to thee.

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