Now, Sinner, Now What Is Thy Hope?

Now

sin­ner

now what is thy hope?

Canst thou with con­fi­dence look up

And see the an­gel nigh?

Is death a mes­sen­ger of peace?

And dost thou long for thy re­lease?

And art thou fit to die?

Say

if pre­pared for death thou art

What means that fal­tering of thy heart

That in­ly sti­fled groan?

Why shrinks thy soul with guil­ty fear

And loud­ly warns of judg­ment near

Starts from a God un­known?

Whither

ah! whi­ther must thou go?

Poor dy­ing wretch

thou dost not know

Doubtful so near thine end;

Doubtful with whom thou first shall meet

Who first thy part­ing soul shall greet

An an­gel

or a fiend?

Where wilt thou ease

or com­fort take?

Now to thy harm­less life look back

From out­ward vice so free;

Bring all thy works

and seem­ing good

To bal­ance with thy guil­ty load

And let them plead for thee.

Alas! they can­not buy thy peace

The rags of thy own right­eous­ness

They can­not screen thy shame:

Full of all in­ward sin thou art

Anger

and lust

and pride of heart;

And Legion is thy name.

Now let thy best en­dea­vors plead

Now lean up­on that fee­ble reed

Thou who hast lived so well!

Thy dy­ing weight it can­not bear

But breaks

and leaves thee to des­pair

And lets thee sink to hell.

Now wilt thou mock the sons of God

Who felt the Sav­ior’s sprin­kled blood

And owned their sins for­giv’n?

Tell them

their peace they can­not feel

The glo­ri­ous hope

the Spir­it’s seal

The an­te­past of Heav’n.

Hast thou re­ceived the Ho­ly Ghost?

Poor Christ­less soul

un­done and lost

Already damned thou art;

Now tell thy Lord

It can­not be

He did not buy the grace for thee

To dwell with­in thy heart.

His in­spir­ation now blas­pheme

And call it all a mad­man’s dream

That God in man should dwell;

Th’en­thu­si­as­tic scheme ex­plode

That souls should here be filled with God;

Go laugh at saints in hell!

Ah! no; thy laugh­ter ceas­es there

Doomed with apos­tate fiends to share

The un­be­liev­er’s hire;

There thou shalt die the se­cond death

And gnaw thy tongue

and gnash thy teeth

And wel­ter in that fire.

Alas! thy gra­cious day is past:

The wrath is come: what hope at last

The sen­tence to re­peal?

No long­er thy dam­na­tion sleeps

The soul from off thy qui­ver­ing lips

Is star­ing in­to hell.

But if thou no­thing hast to plead

Behold in this thy great­est need

An ad­vo­cate is nigh:

Ask Him to un­der­take thy cause

The Man that hung up­on the cross

And deigned for thee to die.

See Him be­tween the dy­ing thieves—

His grace the part­ing soul re­lieves

E’en at its lat­est hour;

Ask

and His grace shall reach to thee

“Jesus

my king

re­mem­ber me

Display Thy mer­cy’s pow­er.

Thee for my Lord and God I own

With pi­ty see me from Thy throne

And though my bo­dy dies

My soul

if Thou Thy Spir­it give

My hap­py soul to­day shall live

With Thee in para­dise.