Our Youth Is Transient Like A Flower

Our youth is transient like a flower,

That blooms, and fades, and dies;

Our life is but a summer cloud,

And like a shadow flies;

Then let us heed the warning voice-

Today its call we hear,

It speaks in deep and solemn tones,

That come from yonder bier.

The angel messenger of death,

Has gently borne away,

A dear companion from our side,

To realms of endless day;

Her voice no more will join with ours

The song of praise below,

It wakes a purer, sweeter strain,

Where only pleasures flow.

When gathered on the Sabbath morn,

Her vacant place we view,

We'll think how bright the world she treads,

And in her steps pursue;

Be still, let every heart be still,

And all our sorrow quell,

We'll bow submissive to His will,

Who doeth all things well.