Verse 1
What fatal madness to delay
Our flight from sin and wrath Divine,
To linger, till the winter’s day,
And age’s languishing decline!
How shall we then the work begin,
Make ourselves ready to depart,
Or disengage from earth and sin
A barren, cold, unactive heart?
Verse 2
Saviour, thy weak disciple hear
Presenting my injoin’d request:
I feel the chilling winter near,
And seek for shelter in thy breast:
My soul with active faith supply,
E’er yet the helpless season come,
And let me to thy bosom fly,
My sun, my everlasting home.