1 A few more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come;
And we shall be with those that rest,
Asleep within the tomb.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that blest day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

2 A few more storms shall beat
On this wild, rocky shore,
And we shall be where tempests cease
And surges swell no more.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that blest day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

3 A few more struggles here,
A few more partings o’er,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that blest day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!