6-8s. Jeremiah viii. 20. 1 THE harvest of my joys is passed, The summer of my comforts fled, Yet am I unredeemed at last, And sink unsaved among the dead, If on the margin of the grave Thou canst not in a moment save.
2 Destroy me not by thy delay; Delay is endless death to me! But the last moment of my day Is as a thousand years to thee: Come, Jesus, while my head I bow, And show me thy salvation now!