Hark, sinner, while God from on high doth entreat thee,

And warnings with accents of mercy do blend;

Give ear to his voice, lest in judgment he meet thee;

“The harvest is passing, the summer will end.”

2 How oft of thy danger and guilt he hath told thee!

How oft still the message of mercy doth send!

Haste, haste, while he waits in his arms to enfold thee;

“The harvest is passing, the summer will end.”

3 Despised and rejected, at length he may leave thee:

What anguish and horror thy bosom will rend!

Then, haste thee, O sinner, while he will receive thee;

“The harvest is passing, the summer will end.”

4 Ere long, and Jehovah will come in his power;

Our God will arise, with his foes to contend:

Haste, haste thee, O sinner; prepare for that hour;

“The harvest is passing, the summer will end.”

5 The Saviour will call thee in judgment before him:

O, bow to his scepter, and make him thy Friend;

Now yield him thy heart; make haste to adore him;

“The harvest is passing, the summer will end.”