DUST to dust each mortal dies, Both the foolish and the wise, Noe for ever can remain, Each must leave his hoarded gain.
Though in life they wealth attained, Though the praise of men they gained, They shall join those gone before, Where the light shall shine no more.
All their beauty turned to dust, Over them shall rule the just, But my God my soul shall save, He will raise me from the grave.
Crowned with honour though they be, Highly gifted, strong or free, If they be not truly wise, All are as a beast that dies.
The Psalter, 1912