Classic Poem

Time , Time, how few thy value weigh!
How few will estimate a day!
Days, months and years keep rolling on,
The soul neglected and undone.

In painful cares, or empty joys,
Our life its precious hours destroys:
While death stands watching at our side,
Eager to stop the living tide.

Was it for this, ye mortal race,
The Maker gave you here a place?
Was it for this, his thought design'd
The frame of your immortal mind?

For lofty cares, for joys sublime,
He fashion'd you the sons of time;
Pilgrims of time, ere long to be
The dwellers in eternity.

This season of your being, know,
Is portion'd you your deeds to sow.
Wisdom's and folly's differing grain
In future worlds is bliss and pain.

Be warn'd. Each night the day review,
Idle, or busy; search it through:
And while probation's minutes last,
Let every day amend the past.