When youth de­vote their ear­ly days,
To vain de­lights and sin­ful ways,
Their pros­pects dark­en as they rise,
And fill them with a dread sur­prise.

Diseases are the fruit of sin,
The ma­la­dy lies deep with­in;
An ev­il course the mind im­pairs,
And leaves them full of guilt and fears.

Sin strength­ens with in­creas­ing days,
And grows when na­ture’s self de­cays;
Indulged, it makes their fet­ters strong,
And leads the cap­tive slaves along.

Beware, ye thought­less, now be­ware,
No more pre­sume to per­sev­ere;
Today with sup­pli­ca­tions come,
Tomorrow death may call you home.

With ear­nest­ness for mer­cy cry
And God will list­en to your sigh;
Now plead for par­don through His Son,
And He’ll fo­rgive what you have done.