The danger of delay.
Why should I say, |Tis yet too soon
|To seek for heaven or think of death?|
A flower may fade before tis noon,
And I this day may lose my breath.
If this rebellious heart of mine
Despise the gracious calls of Heaven,
I may be harden'd in my sin,
And never have repentance given.
What if the Lord grow wroth, and swear,
While I refuse to read and pray,
That he'll refuse to lend an ear
To all my groans another day!
What if his dreadful anger burn,
While I refuse his offer'd grace,
And all his love to anger turn,
And strike me dead upon the place!
'Tis dangerous to provoke a God!
His power and vengeance none can tell:
One stroke of his almighty rod
Shall send young sinners quick to hell.
Then twill for ever be in vain
To cry for pardon or for grace;
To wish I had my time again,
Or hope to see my Maker's face.