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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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  28  /  30  

Time is
Too Slow for those who Wait,
Too Swift for those who Fear,
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Time is
Too Slow for those who Wait,
Too Swift for those who Fear,
Too Long for those who Grieve,
Too Short for those who Rejoice;
But for those who Love,
Time is not.
- Henry Jackson van Dyke,

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  20  /  28  

I mark my hours by shadow;
Mayest thou mark thine
By sunshine.

I mark my hours by shadow;
Mayest thou mark thine
By sunshine.

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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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  29  /  47  

Let others tell of storms and showers,
I'll only mark your sunny hours.

Let others tell of storms and showers,
I'll only mark your sunny hours.

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  5  /  10  

Amende to-day and slack not,
Deythe cometh and warneth not,
Tyme passeth and speketh not.

Amende to-day and slack not,
Deythe cometh and warneth not,
Tyme passeth and speketh not.

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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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  10  /  25  

If o'er the dial glides a shade, redeem
The time for lo! it passes like a dream;
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If o'er the dial glides a shade, redeem
The time for lo! it passes like a dream;
But if 'tis all a blank, then mark the loss
Of hours unblest by shadows from the cross.

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  24  /  43  

Hours fly,
Flowers die.
New days,
New ways,
Pass by.
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Hours fly,
Flowers die.
New days,
New ways,
Pass by.
Love stays.

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  4  /  9  

The Natural Clock-work by the might One
Wound up at first, and ever since have gone.

The Natural Clock-work by the might One
Wound up at first, and ever since have gone.

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