Classic Poem

" BY my own endless life I swear "
(Strange language of almighty breath!)
" My bowels of compassion share
" No pleasure in a sinner's death.

" O that the wicked would forsake
" The guilty tenor of his ways!
" Turn, turn ye, of my grace partake;
" Salvation still it's joys displays. "

Mercy, the time appointed, waits
The time of trial meet for all:
And heav'n, unfolding wide her gates,
Rejoices in the gracious call.

Warnings divine forbid delay,
And conscience cries aloud; return,
While life's warm current works its way,
Still gushing from its tender urn,

Momentous season! short, or long,
As God's impartial will decides;
Who, clear of cruelty and wrong,
To every man its bound divides.

Sinner, thy season is unknown
To thee, no subject of thy pow'r.
Rash sinner, wilt thou dare postpone
Repentance to some distant hour?

Should e'er that distant hour arrive,
More yielding will thy passions grow?
And weaker thou, victorious strive
Against thy strong augmented foe?

Lagrate! will thus thy stubborn heart
Long-suffering lenity withstand?
Thus God's benignant counsels thwart?
Thus force down his destroying hand?

His goodness if thou wilt despise,
His aggravated vengeance dread;
When he in boundless wrath will rise,
And pour his terrors on thy head.