Flit o'er the summer grass,
So, in Thy sight, Almighty One,
Earth's generations pass.
Flit - ting away, . flit - ting away, . .
Flitting like the shadows away ; . .
Flit - ting away, . flit - ting away, . .
Flitting like the shadows away. . .
2 And while the years, in endless host,
Come passing swiftly on, [boast
The brightest name that earth can
But glistens, and is gone.
3 Yet doth the Star of Bethlehem shed
A lustre pure and sweet,
And still it leads, as once it led,
To the Messiah's feet.
4 O Father, may that Holy Star
Grow every year more bright,
And shed its glorious beams afar
To fill the world with light.