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.

2 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.

3 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.

4 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 blest day;

O wash me in thy precious blood,

And take my sins away.

5 A few more meetings here,

Shall cheer us on our way;

And we shall reach the endless rest,

The eternal Sabbath day.

Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that sweet day,

O wash me in thy precious blood,

And take my sins away.