Hark, sinner, while God from on high doth entreat thee, And warnings with accents of mercy do blend; Give ear to his voice, lest in judgment he meet thee; “The harvest is passing, the summer will end.” 2 How oft of thy danger and guilt he hath told thee! How oft still the message of mercy doth send! Haste, haste, while he waits in his arms to enfold thee; “The harvest is passing, the summer will end.” 3 Despised and rejected, at length he may leave thee: What anguish and horror thy bosom will rend! Then, haste thee, O sinner, while he will receive thee; “The harvest is passing, the summer will end.” 4 Ere long, and Jehovah will come in his power; Our God will arise, with his foes to contend: Haste, haste thee, O sinner; prepare for that hour; “The harvest is passing, the summer will end.” 5 The Saviour will call thee in judgment before him: O, bow to his scepter, and make him thy Friend; Now yield him thy heart; make haste to adore him; “The harvest is passing, the summer will end.” 335 8s, 6s & 4. Entreaty. Sinners, come; no longer wander; Turn you from your evil way; Precious time no longer squander: Come, come away. 2 Christ for you his life has offered, What can you excusing say, If you slight the pardon proffered? Come, come away. 3 Hold not back in hesitation, There is danger in delay, Haste, secure your soul’s salvation, Come, come away. 4 You may feel regret and sorrow, If you fail to come to-day, God may grant you no to-morrow, Come, come away. FAITH AND REPENTANCE. 336 L. M. The wise choice. Though all the world my choice deride, Yet Jesus shall my portion be; For I am pleased with none beside; The fairest of the fair is he. 2 Sweet is the vision of thy face, And kindness o’er thy lips is shed; Lovely art thou, and full of grace, And glory beams around thy head. 3 Thy sufferings I embrace with thee, Thy poverty and shameful cross; The pleasure of the world I flee, And deem its treasures only dross. 4 Be daily dearer to my heart, And ever let me feel thee near; Then willingly with all I’d part, Nor count it worthy of a tear. 337 L. M. The solace of faith. When human hopes and joys depart, I give thee, Lord, a contrite heart; And on my weary spirit steal The thoughts that pass all earthly weal. 2 I cast above my tearful eyes, And muse upon the starry skies; And think that he who governs there Still keeps me in his guardian care.