Alas, What Mean Those Fears?

Alas

what mean those fears

That dry and wi­thered look;

That head be­sprink­led with gray hairs

And hands with pal­sy shook?

Thy heart once all a flame

Fed well on Je­sus’ store

But starv­èd now

and sick

and lame

Thou seem­est sad­ly poor.

Be sure thou hast been slack

And set­tling on thy lees

The Bi­ble cast be­hind thy back

And sel­dom on thy knees.

To Je­sus thou art grown

A strang­er once again;

No won­der He has made thee moan

And look like any Cain.

Come

lift the fee­ble hand

And shake the drow­sy mind

Gird up thy loins for Ca­naan’s land

And fast thy san­dals bind.

To Je­sus yet re­turn

And Je­sus will re­ceive;

Awhile He makes the ram­bler mourn

And then His peace will give.