Young peo­ple all, at­tention give,
While I ad­dress you in God’s name;
You who in sin and fol­ly live,
Come hear the coun­sel of a friend.
I’ve sought for bliss in glit­ter­ing toys,
And ranged the lur­ing scenes of vice;
But ne­ver knew sub­stan­tial joys,
Until I heard my Sav­ior’s voice.

He spake at once my sins for­giv­en,
And washed my load of guilt away;
He gave me glo­ry, peace, and Heav’n,
And thus I found the heav’n­ly way.
And now with trem­bling sense I view
The bil­lows roll be­neath your feet;
For death eter­nal waits for you,
Who slight the force of Gos­pel truth.

Youth, like the spring, will soon be gone
By fleet­ing time or con­quer­ing death,
Your morn­ing sun may set at noon,
And leave you ev­er in the dark.
Your spark­ling eyes and bloom­ing cheeks
Must wi­ther like the blast­ed rose;
The cof­fin, earth, and wind­ing sheet
Will soon your ac­tive limbs en­close.

Ye heed­less ones that wild­ly stroll,
The grave will soon be­come your bed,
Where si­lence reigns, and va­pors roll
In so­lemn dark­ness round your head.
Your friends will pass the lone­some place,
And with a sigh move slow along;
Still gazing on the spires of grass
With which your graves are ov­er­grown.

Your souls will land in dark­er realms,
Where ven­geance reigns and bil­lows roar,
And roll amid the burn­ing flames,
When thou­sand, thou­sand years are o’er.
Sunk in the shades of end­less night,
To groan and howl in end­less pain,
And ne­ver more be­hold the light,
And ne­ver, ne­ver rise again.

Ye bloom­ing youth, this is the state
Of all who do free grace re­fuse;
And soon with you ’twill be too late
The way of life and Christ to choose.
Come, lay your car­nal wea­pons by,
No long­er fight against your God,
But with the Gos­pel now com­ply,
And Heav’n shall be your great re­ward.