Death always near.

DEATH floats on every passing breeze, And lurks in every flower; Each season has its own disease, Its peril every hour.

We daily see the rosy light Of youth's soft cheek decay; And life depart in sudden night Ere scarce has dawned the day.

Look downward, then; thy danger know; Where now thy foot may tread, List to the warning from below, There lie the buried dead.

Look upward, too; by faith apply The truth divinely given; On Jesus and his word rely, And fit thy soul for heaven.