To Thee, O God, in humble trust,
Our hearts their grateful incense burn
For this thy word, 'Thou art of dust,
And unto dust shalt thou return.'
For, what were life, life's work all done,
The hopes, joys, loves, that cling to clay,
All, all departed, one by one,
And yet life's load borne on for aye.
Decay! Decay! 't is stamped on all!
All bloom, in flower and flesh, shall fade;
Ye whispering trees, when we shall fall,
Be our long sleep beneath your shade!
Here, to thy bosom, mother Earth,
Take back, in peace, what thou hast given;
And all that is of heavenly birth,
O God, in peace, recall to Heaven.