1 All ye who laugh and sport with death,
And say, there is no hell;
The gasp of your expiring breath
Will send you there to dwell.
2 When iron slumbers bind your flesh,
With strange surprise you'll find
Immortal vigour springs afresh,
And tortures wake the mind!
3 Then you'll confess the frightful names
Of plagues, you scorn'd before,
No more shall look like idle drams,
Like foolish tales no more.
4 Then shall ye curse that fatal day,
With flames upon your tongues,
When you exchang'd your souls away
For vanity and songs.
Source: Hymns, Selected and Original: for public and private worship (1st ed.) #236