Stop, Poor Sinner, Stop and Think

Stop

poor sin­ner! stop and think

Before you far­ther go!

Will you sport up­on the brink

Of ev­er­last­ing woe?

Once again I charge you

stop!

For

un­less you warn­ing take

Ere you are aware

you drop

Into the burn­ing lake!

Say

have you an arm like God

That you His will op­pose?

Fear you not that ir­on rod

With which He breaks His foes?

Can you stand in that dread day

When He judg­ment shall pro­claim

And the earth shall melt away

Like wax be­fore the flame?

Pale faced death will quick­ly come

To drag you to His bar;

Then to hear your aw­ful doom

Will fill you with des­pair:

All your sins will round you crowd

Sins of a blood-crim­son dye;

Each for ven­geance cry­ing loud

And what can you re­ply?

Though your heart be made of steel

Your fore­head lined with brass

God at length will make you feel

He will not let you pass:

Sinners then in vain will call

Though they now des­pise His grace

Rocks and mount­ains on us fall

And hide us from His face!

But as yet there is a hope

You may His mer­cy know;

Though His arm is lift­ed up

He still for­bears the blow:

’Twas for sin­ners Je­sus died

Sinners He in­vites to come;

None who come shall be de­nied

He says

There still is room.