That Awful Day Will Soon Appear

That awful hour will soon appear,
Swift on the wings of time it flies,
When all that pains or pleases here,
Will vanish from my closing eyes.

Death calls my friends, my neighbours hence,
And none resist the fatal dart:
Continual warnings strike my sense,
And shall they fail to strike my heart?

Think, O my soul! how much depends
On the short period of to-day:
Shall time, which heav’n in mercy lends,
Be negligently thrown away?

Thy remnant minutes strive to use;
Awake, rouse ev’ry active pow’r;
And not in dreams and trifles lose
This little, this important hour!

Lord of my life, inspire my heart
With heav’nly ardour, grace divine;
Nor let thy presence e’er depart,
For strength, and life, and death are thine.

O teach me the celestial skill,
Each awful warning to improve:
And, while my days are short’ning still,
Prepare me for the joys above!