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And the tinkling of my bell,
Thus I walk, and this I tell:
Death and dreadfulness call on
To the gen'ral session,
To whose dismal bar we there
All accounts must come to clear.
Scores of sins w'ave made here many,
Wip'd out few, God knows, if any.
Rise, ye debtors, then, and fall
To make payment while I call.
Ponder this, when I am gone;
By the clock 'tis almost one.
Thus I walk, and this I tell:
Death and dreadfulness call on
To the gen'ral session,
To whose dismal bar we there
All accounts must come to clear.
Scores of sins w'ave made here many,
Wip'd out few, God knows, if any.
Rise, ye debtors, then, and fall
To make payment while I call.
Ponder this, when I am gone;
By the clock 'tis almost one.
122. THE GOODNESS OF HIS GOD.
When winds and seas do rage
And threaten to undo me,
Thou dost, their wrath assuage
If I but call unto Thee.
A mighty storm last night
Did seek my soul to swallow,
But by the peep of light
A gentle calm did follow.
What need I then despair,
Though ills stand round about me;
Since mischiefs neither dare
To bark or bite without Thee?
And threaten to undo me,
Thou dost, their wrath assuage
If I but call unto Thee.
A mighty storm last night
Did seek my soul to swallow,
But by the peep of light
A gentle calm did follow.
What need I then despair,
Though ills stand round about me;
Since mischiefs neither dare
To bark or bite without Thee?
