For These My Soul Is Lost

1 "Go, bring me," said the dying fair,
With anguish in her tone,
"My costly robes and jewels here,
Go, bring them ev'ry one:
They strew'd them on her dying bed,
Those robes of princely cost;
"Father," with bitterness she said,
"For these my soul was lost."

2 "Without glorious hopes I once was blest,
Nor fear'd the gaping tomb;
With heaven already in my breast,
I look'd for heaven to come:
I heard a Saviour's pardoning voice;
My soul was fill'd with peace:
Father, you bought me with these toys,
I barter'd heaven for these.

3 "Take them--they are the price of blood,
For these I lost my soul;
For these, must bear the wrath of God,
While ceaseless ages roll:
Remember, when you look on these,
Your daughter's fearful doom,
That she, her pride and thine to please,
Went quaking to the tomb.

4 "Go, bear them from my sight and touch,
Your gifts I here restore;
Keep them with care, they cost you much,
They cost your daughter more:
Look at them every rolling year,
Upon my dying day,
And drop for me the burning tear"--
She said, and sunk away.

Source: The Minstrel of Zion: a book of religious songs, accompanied with appropriate music, chiefly original #21