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1 That awful hour will soon appear,
Swift on the wings of time it flies,
When all that pains or pleases here,
Will vanish from my closing eyes.
2 Death calls my friends, my neighbours hence,
And none resist the fatal dart:
Continual warnings strike my sense,
And shall they fail to strike my heart?
3 Think, O my soul! how much depends
On the short period of to-day:
Shall time, which heav'n in mercy lends,
Be negligently thrown away?
4 Thy remnant minutes strive to use;
Awake, rouse ev'ry active pow'r;
And not in dreams and trifles lose
This little, this important hour!
5 Lord of my life, inspire my heart
With heav'nly ardour, grace divine;
Nor let thy presence e'er depart,
For strength, and life, and death are thine.
6 O teach me the celestial skill,
Each awful warning to improve:
And, while my days are short'ning still,
Prepare me for the joys above!Source: Hymns, Selected and Original: for public and private worship (1st ed.) #704