Say, where is thy refuge, my bro­ther,
And what is thy pros­pect today?
Why toil for the wealth that will perish,
The trea­sures that rust and de­cay?
Oh, think of thy soul, that for­ev­er
Must live on eter­ni­ty’s shore,
When thou in the dust art for­got­ten,
When plea­sure can charm thee no more.

Refrain

’Twill pro­fit thee no­thing, but fear­ful the cost,
To gain the whole world if thy soul should be lost!
To gain the whole world if thy soul should be lost!

The Mas­ter is call­ing thee, bro­ther,
In tones of com­pas­sion and love,
To feel that sweet rap­ture of par­don,
And lay up thy trea­sure above;
Oh, kneel at the cross where He suf­fered,
To ran­som thy soul from the grave,
The arm of His mer­cy will hold Thee,
The arm that is migh­ty to save.

Refrain

The sum­mer is wan­ing, my bro­ther,
Repent, ere the sea­son is past;
God’s good­ness to thee is ex­tend­ed,
As long as the day-beam shall last;
Then slight not the warn­ing re­peat­ed
With all the bright mo­ments that roll,
Nor say, when the har­vest is end­ed,
That no one hath cared for thy soul.

Refrain