Ecclesiastes 12

Before the day drips closed or all
The bowls crack red with rust,
Before the dying sparrow eats
His final crumbled crust;
Before the grass grows brown with time
Or wheels put to rest
The sun will rise a final time
Within the striking west.
Before the body breaks and bleeds
Or wrinkles add with time,
Before the silver cord is snapped
And ships are hard with grime
Before the willow sighs its last
Or eagles fold their wings
The sun will start the breaking day
And sprinkle out its beams.
The world is fading now, the stars
Have passed beyond their gleam:
The vase has shattered all its clay
The glade's no longer green
But though each man returns to dust
And windows seem so dim
The Son is coming in the West
For us to worship Him.