Sinner Is Thy Heart At Rest

Sinner, is thy heart at rest?
Is thy bosom void of fear?
Art thou not by guilt oppressed?
Speaks not conscience in thine ear?

Can this world afford thee bliss?
Can it chase away thy gloom?
Flattering, false, and vain it is:–
Tremble at the worldling’s doom.

Think, oh sinner, on thy end;
See the judgment-day appear!
Thither must thy spirit wend;
There thy righteous sentence hear.

Wretched, ruined, helpless soul,
To a Saviour’s blood apply;
He alone can make thee whole;
Fly to Jesus,–sinner, fly!