memento mori

1069 C. M.
A voice from the grave.

HARK! from the tombs a doleful sound,
   My ears, attend the cry :—
   Ye living men, come view the ground
   Where you must shortly lie.

2 Princes, this clay must be your bed,
   In spite of all your towers;
   The tall, the wise, the reverend head,
   Shall lie as low as ours.

3 Great God! is this our certain doom,
   And are we still secure?
   Still walking downward to the tomb,
   And yet prepared no more?

4 Grant us the power of quick’ning grace,
   To fit our souls to fly ;
   Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
   We’ll rise above the sky.
                         Isaac Watts
                         Methodist Episcopal hymnal (1870 edition)