My Barns Are Full

My barns are full

my stores in­crease

And now

for ma­ny years

Soul

eat and drink

and take thine ease

Secure from wants and fears.

Thus while a world­ling boast­ed once

As ma­ny now pre­sume;

He heard the Lord Him­self pro­nounce

His sud­den

aw­ful doom.

This night

vain fool

thy soul must pass

Into a world un­known;

And who shall then the stores pos­sess

Which thou hast called thine own?

Thus blind­ed mor­tals fond­ly scheme

For hap­pi­ness below;

Till death dis­turbs the pleas­ing dream

And they awake to woe.

Ah! who can speak the vast dis­may

That fills the sin­ner’s mind;

When torn

by death’s strong hand

away

He leaves his all be­hind.

Wretches

who cleave to earth­ly things

But are not rich to God;

Their dy­ing hour is full of stings

And hell their dark abode.

Dear Sav­ior

make us time­ly wise

Thy Gos­pel to at­tend;

That we may live above the skies

When this poor life shall end.