William Cowper

Olney Hymn 7. Vanity of the World

    God gives his mercies to be spent;
        Your hoard will do your soul no good. 
    Gold is a blessing only lent,
        Repaid by giving others food.

    The world's esteem is but a bribe,
        To buy their peace you sell your own; 
    The slave of a vainglorious tribe,
        Who hate you while they make you known.

    The joy that vain amusements give,
        Oh! sad conclusion that it brings! 
    The honey of a crowded hive,
        Defended by a thousand stings.

    'Tis thus the world rewards the fools
        That live upon her treacherous smiles: 
    She leads them blindfold by her rules,
        And ruins all whom she beguiles.

    God knows the thousands who go down
        From pleasure into endless woe; 
    And with a long despairing groan
        Blaspheme the Maker as they go.

    Oh fearful thought! be timely wise;
        Delight but in a Saviour's charms, 
    And God shall take you to the skies,
        Embraced in everlasting arms.