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Paraphrase of Part of Chapter 7 of Ecclesiastes Now thy Creator, in the prime of youth, Remember; ere those evil days approach When every withering nerve must cease to feel The touch of worldly pleasures: while the sun And moon, and spangled stars, on the high vault Of heaven, thou canst behold, that teach thy mind Worship and praise: ere yet the shadows fall Of life's dank evening; ere thy mortal frame Around thee shrink, and trembling hands and knees Fail to sustain thee; when the lightest thing, The nimble grasshopper, a burden drops Upon thy bending shoulders; and thick gloom O'erspread thy windows; when the grinders cease Their preparations for the chemic work Of balmy nutriment, and the sweet notes, With which the daughters of harmonious sound Play on thy slackened ears, are faintly heard; Ill hour of penitence. Now, in thy prime, Or ever broken be the golden bowl, Or loosed the silver cord, or e'er the wheel Breaks at his source, which rolls the vital stream — Remember thy Creator; that thy soul, When earth to earth, when dust to dust returns, May reascend to heaven, and, at His throne, Receive the fulness of immortal joy. John Dyer's other poems:
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