1 Sinner, is thy heart at rest?
Is thy bosom void of fear?
Art thou not by guilt oppressed?
Speaks not conscience in thine ear?
2 Can this world afford thee bliss?
Can it chase away thy gloom?
Flattering, false, and vain it is:--
Tremble at the worldling's doom.
3 Think, oh sinner, on thy end;
See the judgment-day appear!
Thither must thy spirit wend;
There thy righteous sentence hear.
4 Wretched, ruined, helpless soul,
To a Saviour's blood apply;
He alone can make thee whole;
Fly to Jesus,--sinner, fly!
Source: The Book of Worship #289