Ah, Woe Is Me For Pleasure That Is Vain, Ah, Woe Is Me For Glory That Is Past: Pleasure That Bringeth Sorrow At The Last, Glory That At The Last Bringeth No Gain! So Saith The Sinking Heart; And So Again It Shall Say Till The Mighty Angel-Blast Is Blown, Making The Sun And Moon Aghast And Showering Down The Stars Like Sudden Rain. And Evermore Men Shall Go Fearfully Bending Beneath Their Weight Of Heaviness; And Ancient Men Shall Lie Down Wearily, And Strong Men Shall Rise Up In Weariness; Yea, Even The Young Shall Answer Sighingly Saying One To Another: How Vain It Is!