As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.Ps. 103:15
Man’s days are as grass
Soon its labor and lust
Returns once more
To coffers of dust
Man’s days are as grass
How fickle the bloom
Soon it decays
In earth’s vast tomb
Man’s days are as grass
But not the soul
It never dies
Though eternities roll
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