"Go thy way, and when I have a more convenient season I will call for thee."
* * * * *
"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."
Not yet, not yet, O Saviour,
Although thou callest me
In life's unclouded morning
Why should I follow thee?
The world and all its pleasures
Outspread before me lie,
When I have grasped its treasures
I'll hear thee, by and by.
Not yet, not yet, O Saviour! -
True, thou hast called me long,
Yet, almost more than ever,
I love the world's glad song!
Say not the years are hasting
With rapid footsteps by, -
Say not life's sands are wasting,
But call me by and by!
Not yet, not yet, O Saviour!
I have no time to stay;
The goal tow'rd which I hasten
Is now not far away.
Another day - and haply
The triumph I shall see,
And grasp my crown of vic'try, -
Then, I will call for thee!
* * *
No more, no more, O sinner,
The Saviour's call is o'er!
The door is shut forever,
To be unclosed no more! -
So late the hour and lonely,
So dark the night and drear,
And He who called thee only
To bless thee, will not hear!
Past is the harvest-gladness,
The summer-bloom is o'er,
Thy sun has set in sadness,
To rise-oh, nevermore!
So late the hour and lonely,
So dark the night and drear,
And He who called thee only
To bless thee, will not hear!