"In the midst of life we are in death; of whom then may we seek succour but of Thee, O Lord?"
N midst of Life we are in Death, Of whom then may we seekFor succour, but of Thee, O Lord, To whom else can we speak?When Life seems fair as summer's morn, When health and joy are ours,O let us then remember, Lord, Will come Life's darker hours.
For in the warmth of day we see The flowers are fresh and fair,But mark how frail, and O how sure Will fall the cold death there.
Nor summer's sun, nor evening dew, Nor human band can stayThe frosty wind of death and blight, That steals their life away.
