COME, O my soul, thy certain ruin trace,
If thou neglect the Saviour’s proffered grace.
Infinite years in torments must I spend,
Which never, never, never have an end.
Yes, I must dwell in torturing despair
As many years as atoms in the air:
When these are spent, as many thousands more
As grains of sand upon the ocean shore:
When these are gone, as many to ensue
As blades of grass and drops of morning dew:
When these expire, as many millions more
As moments in the millions past before:
When all these doleful years are spent in pain,
And multiplied by myriads again,
Till numbers drown the thought, could I suppose,
That then my wretched years were at a close,
This would afford a hope—but, ah! I shiver
To think upon the dreadful words, Forever.
Friend, is the question on thy heart engraved,
‘What shall I do to be forever saved?’
‘Believe in Jesus,’ is the sole reply,
Believe in Him, and thou shalt never die;
His precious blood gives pardon, life, and peace,
Freedom from guilt, and joys that never cease.”