Poor Esau Repented Too Late

Poor Esau re­pent­ed too late

That once he his birth-right de­spised;

And sold

for a mor­sel of meat

What could not too high­ly be prized:

How great was his ang­uish when told

The bless­ing he sought to ob­tain

Was gone with the birth-right he sold

And none could re­call it again!

He stands as a warn­ing to all

Wherever the Gos­pel shall come;

O hast­en and yield to the call

While yet for re­pent­ance there’s room!

Your sea­son will quick­ly be past

Then hear and ob­ey it to­day;

Lest when you seek mer­cy at last

The Sav­ior should frown you away.

What is it the world can pro­pose?

A mor­sel of meat at the best!

For this are you will­ing to lose

A share in the joys of the blest?

Its plea­sures will speed­ily end

Its fa­vor and praise are but breath;

And what can its pro­fits be­friend

Your soul in the mo­ment of death?

If Je­sus for these you de­spise

And sin to the Sav­ior pre­fer;

In vain your en­trea­ties and cries

When sum­moned to stand at His bar:

How will you His pre­sence abide?

What ang­uish will tor­ture your heart?

The saints all en­throned by His side

And you be com­pelled to de­part.

Too oft­en

dear Sav­ior

have I

Preferred some poor tri­fle to Thee;

How is it Thou dost not de­ny

The bless­ing and birth-right to me?

No bet­ter than Esau I am

Though par­don and Heav­en be mine;

To me be­longs no­thing but shame

The praise and the glo­ry be Thine.