Dust to Dust, the Mortal Dies

Dust to dust

the mor­tal dies

Both the fool­ish and the wise;

None for­ev­er can re­main

Each must leave his hoard­ed gain.

Yet with­in their heart they say

That their hous­es are for aye

That their dwell­ing plac­es grand

Shall for ge­ne­ra­tions stand.

To their lands they give their name

In the hope of last­ing fame

But man’s hon­or quick­ly flies

Like the low­ly beast he dies.

Though such fol­ly mark their way

Men ap­prove of what they say;

Death their shep­herd

they the sheep

He with­in his fold will keep.

O’er them soon shall rule the just

All their beau­ty turn to dust;

God my wait­ing soul shall save

He will raise me from the grave.

Let no fear dis­turb your peace

Though one’s house and wealth in­crease;

Death shall end his fleet­ing day

He shall car­ry naught away.

Though in life he wealth at­tained

Though the praise of men he gained

He shall join those gone be­fore

Where the light shall shine no more.

Crowned with hon­or though he be

Highly gift­ed

strong and free

If he be not tru­ly wise

Man is like the beast that dies.