Thoughtless, inexperienc'd youth,
Though it hears, the warning scorns.
Youth in fancy's glass surveys
Life prolong'd to distant years,
While the vast imagin'd space
Fill'd with sweets and joys appears.
Awful disappointment soon
Overclouds the prospect gay;
Some their sun goes down at noon,
Torn by death's strong hand away:
Where are then their pleasing schemes?
Where the joys they hope to find?
Gone for ever, like their dreams,
Leaving not a trace behind.
Others, who are spar'd awhile,
Live to weep o'er fancy's cheat;
Find distress, and pain, and toil,
Bitter things instead of sweet:
Sin has spread a curse around,
Poison'd all things here below;
On this base polluted ground,
Peace and joy can never grow.
Grace alone can cure our ills,
Sweeten life with all its cares;
Regulate our stubborn wills,
Save us from surrounding snares.
Though you oft have heard in vain,
Former years in folly spent,
Grace invites you yet again,
Once more calls you to repent.
Call'd again, at length, beware,
Hear the Saviour's voice, and live;
Lest he in his wrath should swear,
He no more will warning give.
Pray that you may hear and feel,
Ere the day of grace be past;
Lest your hearts grow hard as steel,
Or this year should prove your last.
PROSTRATE before thy throne I fall,
My God, my hope, my trust;
O let me live to thee to-day,
Nor of to-morrow boast.
Time! O how swift its moments fly!
What millions have I lost!
O may I seize the golden Now!
Nor of to-morrow boast.
Before the present day is past,
My soul may meet its doom;
Now let me for salvation haste,
To-morrow ne'er may come.
To-day may I the Saviour know,
And in his name believe;
Nor let those precious moments go,
To-morrow may deceive.
Thy sparing mercies still abound,
And I am out of hell;
To-day I am on mercy's ground,
To-morrow-who can tell?
Grant, gracious Lord! at last I may
Before thy face appear;
And sing an everlasting day,
There's no to-morrow there.
STOOP down, my thoughts, that used to rise,
Converse a while with death;
Think how a gasping mortal lies
And pants away his breath.
But, O the soul that never dies!
At once it leaves the clay!
Ye thoughts, pursue it where it flies,
And track its wondrous way.
Up to the courts where angels dwell,
It mounts, triumphing there:
Or devils plunge it down to hell,
In infinite despair.
And must my body faint and die?
And must this soul remove?
Oh, for some guardian angel nigh,
To bear it safe above!
Jesus, to thy dear faithful hand
My naked soul I trust;
And my flesh waits for thy command,
To drop into my dust.
I would not live alway: I ask not to stay
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way;
The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here,
Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.
I would not live alway, thus fetter'd by sin;
Temptation without, and corruption within :
E'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears,
And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears.
I would not live alway; no-welcome the tomb,
Since Jesus has laid there, I dread not its gloom;
There, sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise
To hail him in triumph descending the skies.
Who, who would live always away from his God;
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,
Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright
plains,
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns:
Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Saviour and brethren, transported to greet; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul!
WHY should we start, and fear to die?
What timorous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate of endless joy,
And yet we dread to enter there.
The pains, the groans, and dying strife,
Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.
O! if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul would stretch her wings in haste,
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