1 "This may be thy latest call,
Youth repent--before him fall;
Ask his mercy--fear his rod;"
So he spake--the man of God,
So he spake--the man of God.

2 "Often have I heard that tale,"
Sneer'd the youth, "'tis old and stale:
Often saidst thou in the past,
This way be thy last--thy last."

3 "Yet the last will surely come;
Thou art hastening to thy doom:
Seek the Lord without delay,
This may be thy latest day."

4 Turning in his scorn he went,
On his selfish pleasures bent:
Life and joy before him lay,
Promising a brighter day.

5 But that day, thus lightly pass'd,
Was to him the last--the last--
Never did his youthful eyes
See another morning rise.

6 Down he sat to muse awhile,
Underneath a tottering pile;
Heedless of the warning past,
Little dreaming 'twas his last.

7 Horrors seize me while I tell
How that tottering structure fell;
Lo it moves! its pillars yield--
Hapless youth! his dome is seal'd.

8 Crush'd his body--lost his soul--
O'er it waves of anguish roll--
Summer ended--harvest past--
Oh! that warning!--'twas his last.