What sweet of life endureth
unmixed with bitter pain?
'Midst earthly change and chances
what glory doth remain?

All is a feeble shadow,
a dream that will not stay;
death cometh in a moment,
and taketh all away.

O Christ, a light transcendent
shines in thy countenance,
and none can tell the sweetness,
the beauty of thy glance.

In this may thy poor servant
his joy eternal find;
thou calledst him, O rest him,
thou Lover of mankind!