The rich and poor together meet,
In death, and at the mercy seat;
Then why should a distinction be
Made here, by worms so vile as we?
It is not wealth, or rank, or might,
Lord! makes a difference in Thy sight;
But who has most Thy gifts of grace,
He holds with Thee the highest place.
Thou art the Maker of us all,
Both rich and poor, and great and small;
And all we are, and all we own,
Comes but from Thee, and Thee alone!
All common children of one God,
All journeying home, the self-same road,
All born to death, we daily die,
And all upon one hope rely!
With but one sacrifice to plead,
One Savior God to intercede,
One bar, at which all must appear,
Why should we be dissevered here?
The gilded glory of today,
Tomorrow droops, and fades away;
And youth, and pride, and visions high,
Live but to blossom and to die!
The cottage serf, and crownèd head,
Must both lie in one common bed,
And lose all difference of birth
When gathered to their common earth.
He only who can trace from high
His patent of nobility,
Sealed with the blood of Him, who gave
His life as ransom for the slave,
He only, in that awful day
When Heav’n and earth shall pass away,
Can feel, upon God’s word secure,
That his inheritance is sure.
Lord! if Thy hand hath placed me low,
Make me contented to be so!
But oh! if it hath raised me high,
Vouchsafe me Christ’s humility!
