The Harvest Of My Joys Is Passed,
The Summer Of My Comforts Fled,
Yet Am I Unredeemed At Last,
And Sink Unsaved Among The Dead,
If On The Margin Of The Grave
Thou Canst Not In A Moment Save.

Destroy Me Not By Thy Delay;
Delay Is Endless Death To Me!
But The Last Moment Of My Day
Is As A Thousand Years To Thee:
Come, Jesus, While My Head I Bow,
And Show Me Thy Salvation Now!