The Soul’s Lament

The sum­mer is end­ed

O God!

And the har­vest for­ev­er past

While heed­less life’s ear­nest path I have trod

And now I’m un­done at last;

With the best of in­ten­tions

My path I have paved

But the har­vest is ended

My soul is not saved.

I am not saved; I am not saved;

The har­vest is end­ed

and I am not saved.

The dews of God’s grace have come down;

Thro’ the spring and the sum­mer eves

The beau­ti­ful rays of au­tumn’s bright sun

Have rip­ened full ma­ny sheaves;

All the while with vain dream­ings

My way I have paved

Till the sum­mer is end­ed

And I am not saved.

Full oft­en His still gen­tle voice

Has en­cour­aged my way­ward heart

To choose

in the place of life’s fleet­ing joys

Like Mary

that bet­ter part

But alas! ev­ery warn­ing

My proud heart has braved

Till sum­mer is ended

And I am not saved.