Let the Sinner Prize His Treasure

Let the sin­ner prize his trea­sure

I would love things above

Yielding high­er plea­sure.

Sons of mirth your joys de­ceive you

They are vain

will give pain

And ere long will leave you.

Let men thirst for world­ly glo­ry

Court re­nown

seek a crown

All is tran­si­to­ry.

I shall still pre­fer my sta­tion

Seek for peace

taste its bliss

Free from ob­ser­va­tion

They who toil with pain and ang­uish

To ob­tain earth­ly gain

Soon will pine and lang­uish.

Such the trea­sure I’m pos­sess­ing

Naught on earth can give birth

To an eq­ual bless­ing.

God my strength will still sus­tain me

Though I’m poor

I am sure

He will not dis­dain me.

May I feel in­creas­ing plea­sure

In His ways all my days

Own Him as my tre­asure.