Say, where is your refuge, poor sinner,
And what is your prospect today?
Why toil for the wealth that will perish,
The treasures that rust and decay?
Oh! Think of your soul that forever
Must live on eternity’s shore,
When you, in the dust, are forgotten,
When pleasure can charm you no more.
’Twill profit you nothing, but fearful the cost,
To gain the whole world if your soul should be lost!
The Master is calling you, sinner,
In tones of compassion and love,
To feel that sweet rapture of pardon,
And lay up your treasure above:
Oh! Kneel at the cross where He suffered,
To ransom your soul from the grave;
The arm of His mercy will hold you,
The arm that is mighty to save.