They dreamed not of dan­ger,
Those sin­ners of old,
Whom No­ah was chos­en to warn;
By fre­quent trans­gress­ions
Their hearts had grown cold,
They laughed his en­trea­ties to scorn;
Yet daily he called them,
Oh come, sin­ners, come,
Believe and pre­pare to em­bark!
Receive ye the mes­sage,
And know there is room
For all who will come to the Ark.

Refrain

Then come, come, oh, come;
There’s re­fuge alone in the Ark;
Receive ye the mes­sage,
And know there is room
For all who will come to the Ark.

He could not arouse them,
Unheeding they stood,
Unmoved by his warn­ing and pray­er;
The pro­phet passed in
From the on­com­ing flood,
And left them to hope­less des­pair;
The flood­gates were opened,
The del­uge came on,
The hea­vens as mid­night grew dark;
Too late, then they turned,
Every foo­thold was gone,
They per­ished in sight of the Ark.

Refrain

O sin­ners, the her­alds
Of mer­cy i­mplore,
They cry like the pa­tri­arch, Come;
The Ark of sal­va­tion
Is moored to your shore,
Oh, en­ter while yet there is room!
The storm cloud of jus­tice
Rolls dark ov­er­head,
And when by its fu­ry you’re tossed,
Alas, of your per­ish­ing souls
Twill be said,
They heard—they re­fused—
And were lost!

Refrain