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    O God! methinks it were a happy life
    To be no better than a homely swain;
    To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
    To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point,
    Thereby to see the minutes, how they run--
    How many makes the hour full complete,
    How many hours brings about the day,
    How many days will finish up the year,
    How many years a mortal man may live;
    When this is known, then to divide the times--
    So many hours must I tend my flock,
    So many hours must I take my rest,
    So many hours must I contemplate,
    So many hours must I sport myself;
    So many days my ewes have been with young,
    So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,
    So many months ere I shall shear the fleece.
    So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
    Passed over to the end they were created,
    Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
    Ah, what a life were this!

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  12  /  15  

Give God thy heart, thy service, and thy gold; The day wears on,
and time is waxing old.
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Give God thy heart, thy service, and thy gold; The day wears on,
and time is waxing old.
- Unattributed Author,

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  10  /  14  

As the long hours do pass away,
So doth the life of man decay.

As the long hours do pass away,
So doth the life of man decay.

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  6  /  11  

In the day, do the day's work.

In the day, do the day's work.

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  6  /  18  

I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the
night cometh, when no read more

I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the
night cometh, when no man can work.

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  6  /  21  

Our life's a flying shadow, God's the pole,
The index pointing at Him is our soul;
Death read more

Our life's a flying shadow, God's the pole,
The index pointing at Him is our soul;
Death the horizon, when our sun is set,
Which will through Christ a resurrection get.

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  4  /  15  

Thou breathing dial! since thy day began
The present hour was ever mark'd with shade.

Thou breathing dial! since thy day began
The present hour was ever mark'd with shade.

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  21  /  23  

I am moved by the light.
[Lat., A lumine motus.]

I am moved by the light.
[Lat., A lumine motus.]

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  23  /  24  

Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed;
Once I went back when a good monarch prayed;
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Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed;
Once I went back when a good monarch prayed;
Mortals, howe'er we grieve, howe'er deplore,
The flying shadow will return no more.

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  8  /  14  

Live ye, he says, I flee.

Live ye, he says, I flee.

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