On lost Time

It is our Business every day
To pass the time we cannot stay;
This minute's mine, but it is gone,
Past call, while it is thinking on.
'Tis pleasant, and we think it fine,
To spend our time on a design
To get some honour, and encrease
Our wealth, till the hour of our decease,
Not using what we do possess,
In hopes to gain more happiness.
Thus for some nothing, or a toy,
We lose the time we might enjoy:
So that indeed we do believe,
And only dream that we do live.
To be thus vain, and thus profuse
Of Time, admits of no excuse,
While our desires do still make room
For some new pleasure that's to come,
Wishing more wings to Time for haste,
Not thinking how our selves do waste,
How much we lose, how little gain,
When we our wishes do obtain,
Till age and our experience, brings
Our Souls to long for heavenly things,
Which is the sure and only way
To call Time ours, make it obey
Our Wishes, and in some degree
May join Time to Eternity.