Vain world, what is in thee? What do poor mortals see, Which should esteemèd be Worthy their pleasure? Is it the mother’s womb, 5 Or sorrows which soon come, Or a dark grave and tomb, Which is their treasure? How dost thou man deceive By thy vain glory? 10 Why do they still believe Thy false history? Is it children’s book and rod, The labourer’s heavy load, Poverty undertrod, 15 The world desireth? Is it distracting cares, Or heart-tormenting fears, Or pining grief and tears, Which man requireth? 20 Or is it youthful rage, Or childish toying; Or is decrepit age Worth man’s enjoying? Is it deceitful wealth, 25 Got by care, fraud, or stealth, Or short uncertain health, Which thus befool men? Or do the serpent’s lies, By the world’s flatteries 30 And tempting vanities, Still overrule them? Or do they in a dream Sleep out their season? Or borne down by lust’s stream, 35 Which conquers reason? The silly lambs to-day Pleasantly skip and play, Whom butchers mean to slay Perhaps to-morrow; 40 In a more brutish sort Do careless sinners sport, Or in dead sleep still snort, As near to sorrow; Till life, not well begun, 45 Be sadly ended, And the web they have spun Can ne’er be mended. What is the time that’s gone, And what is that to come? 50 Is it not now as none? The present stays not. Time posteth, oh how fast! Unwelcome death makes haste; None can call back what’s past-- 55 Judgment delays not. Though God bring in the light, Sinners awake not; Because hell’s out of sight They sin forsake not. 60 Man walks in a vain show; They know, yet will not know; Sit still, when they should go; But run for shadows; While they might taste and know 65 The living streams that flow, And crop the flowers that grow, In Christ’s sweet meadows. Life’s better slept away Than as they use it; 70 In sin and drunken play Vain men abuse it.