This text comes from A First Series of Hymns and Songs, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
How fleeting all my pleasures seem!
No joy in them I find;
They pass like morning's early beam,
And leave no trace behind.
That lily nurs'd with fond delight,
So fragrant and so fair,
Struck down, alas! by sudden blight,
It dies, despite my care.
And all the bright and sunny flowers
I've watch'd from day to day,
They bloom their few short summer hours,
And then they fade away.
Yet, as they fade and disappear,
Methinks I hear them cry,
"Dear little friend, so young and fair,
Remember you must die."
Ah, yes! and may I on that day,
When Jesus calls me hence,
Like my fair lily, pass away
In spotless innocence.
And like the rose whose sweets outlive
Its gay and fleeting bloom,
May I fair virtue's odour give
E'en from the silent tomb.