O, what is life?--'tis like a flower
That blossoms and is gone;
It flourishes its little hour,
With all its beauty on:
Death comes, and, like a wintry day,
It cuts the lovely flower away.

O, what is life?--'tis like the bow
That glistens in the sky:
We love to see its colors glow;
But, while we look, they die:
Life fails as soon:--to-day 'tis here;
To-morrow it may disappear.

Lord, what is life?--if spent with thee
In humble praise and prayer,
How long or short our life may be,
We feel no anxious care:
Though life depart, our joys shall last
When life and all its joys are past.