1 While life prolongs its precious light
Mercy is found, and peace is given,
But soon, ah! soon, approaching night
Shall blot out every hope of heaven.

2 While God invites, how blest the day,
How sweet the Gospel’s charming sound;
Come, sinners, haste, oh, haste away,
While yet a pardoning God is found.

3 Soon, borne on time’s most rapid wing,
Shall death command you to the grave:
Before his bar your spirits bring,
And none be found to hear or save.

4 In that lone land of deep despair,
No Sabbath’s heavenly light shall rise--
No God regard your bitter prayer,
No Saviour call you to the skies.