Now In The Heat Of Youthful Blood


Now, in the heat of youthful blood,
Remember your Creator, God:
Behold, the months come hast’ning on,
When you shall say, “My joys are gone.”

God from on high beholds your thoughts;
His book records your secret faults:
The works of darkness men have done
Must all appear before the sun.

Behold the aged sinner goes,
Laden with guilt and heavy woes,
Down to the regions of the dead,
With bitterest curses on his head.

The dust returns to dust again;
The soul in agonies of pain
Ascends to God, not there to dwell,
But hears her doom, and sinks to hell.

God of the young! turn off their eyes
From earth’s alluring vanities;
And let the warnings of Thy word
Awake their souls to fear the Lord!