Verse 1
Ah! Foolish souls, th’ accursed race
Who will not utterly expel,
But suffer sin to keep its place,
But let it in your border dwell!
Th’ indwelling sin for which ye plead
Shall pierce you thro’ with cruel pains,
Shall make your heart and conscience bleed,
And plague you with its dire remains.

Verse 2
Will ye the hateful relicks spare,
And say, it is the Saviour’s will?
The thorns ye for yourselves prepare
Your wounded sides and eyes shall feel;
Vext by the foes ye leave within,
In vain for rest, or help ye cry,
For you, who chuse to live with sin,
There’s no redemption—till you die!