To Live

Think of those who died long ago,

Who lie in graves forgotten,

Whose lives were swallowed up in woe,

Whose corpses now are rotten!

Think of those who aren’t yet born,

Whose stories have not yet begun.

They do not wake to see the morn,

Or in the evening sunlight run.

But we — we are lucky above all

And ought to raise thanksgiving.

For we are born, nor yet to fall —

Praise God, for we are living!

We’re alive, right now, right here!

Our limbs do move and our eyes see!

We have our own vessel to steer

Upon life’s roaring, winding sea.

So, by God, just let us live

As fully as ever we’re able.

Let us sift deeds through a sieve

And bring the good to table.

Soon or late, we’ll leave this life

And our chance to live will be gone.

Others will lift to their lips the fife,

Life’s symphony will go on.

But in our life’s few lovely days,

We must live as well as we might.

Soaking in life’s warm sun rays,

Enduring each dark night.

So that when we have breathed our last,

And, gasping, run the final mile,

Man may gaze into the past,

And, in thinking about us, smile.

So that, remembering, they may say

How we laughed, we loved, we thrived,

That we pressed our stamp upon each day,

That we were to the utmost alive.

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