He was not will­ing that any should per­ish;
Jesus en­throned in the glo­ry above,
Saw our poor fall­en world, pi­tied our sor­rows,
Poured out His life for us, won­der­ful love!
Perishing, per­ish­ing! Throng­ing our path­way,
Hearts break with bur­dens too hea­vy to bear:
Jesus would save, but there’s no one to tell them,
No one to lift them from sin and des­pair.

He was not will­ing that any should per­ish;
Clothed in our flesh with its sor­row and pain,
Came He to seek the lost, com­fort the mourn­er,
Heal the heart brok­en by sor­row and shame.
Perishing, per­ish­ing! Har­vest is pass­ing,
Reapers are few and the night draw­eth near:
Jesus is call­ing thee, haste to the reap­ing,
Thou shalt have souls, pre­cious souls for thy hire.

Plenty for plea­sure, but lit­tle for Je­sus;
Time for the world with its trou­bles and toys,
No time for Je­sus’ work, feed­ing the hun­gry,
Lifting lost souls to eter­ni­ty’s joys.
Perishing, per­ish­ing! Hark, how they call us;
Bring us your Sav­ior, oh, tell us of Him!
We are so wea­ry, so hea­vi­ly la­den,
And with long weep­ing our eyes have grown dim.

He was not will­ing that any should per­ish;
Am I His fol­low­er, and can I live
Longer at ease with a soul go­ing down­ward,
Lost for the lack of the help I might give!
Perishing, per­ish­ing! Thou wast not will­ing;
Master, for­give, and in­spire us anew;
Banish our world­li­ness, help us to ev­er
Live with eter­ni­ty’s val­ues in view.