A few more years shall roll,

A few more seasons come,

And we shall be with those that rest

Asleep within the tomb;

Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that great day;

O wash me in thy precious blood,

And take my sins away.

A few more suns shall set

O'er these dark hills of time,

And we shall be where suns are not,

A far serener clime:

Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that blest day;

O wash me in thy precious blood,

And take my sins away.

A few more storms shall beat

On this wild rocky shore,

And we shall be where tempests cease,

And surges swell no more:

Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that calm day;

O wash me in thy precious blood,

And take my sins away.

A few more struggles here,

A few more partings o'er,

A few more toils, a few more tears,

And we shall weep no more:

Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that bright day;

O wash me in thy precious blood,

And take my sins away.

'Tis but a little while

And he shall come again,

Who died that we might live, who lives

That we with him may reign:

Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that glad day;

O wash me in thy precious blood,

And take my sins away.

Amen.