A Dialogue Between — Death and a Sinner
Death
May we come, by heaven’s decree,
For I am here to summons thee;
And whether thou’rt prepared or no,
So unresisting thou must go.
Sinner.
Then ghastly Death, but thou look’st pale,
Thou ope’st a door to heaven or hell;
But woulst thou not with me forbear,
Oh! spare me for another year.
Death.
And years and months are gone,
And thou must stand before the throne,
To give account of all thy ways,
And how thou spent thy youthful days.
Sinner.
O Death! have mercy on my age,
And spare me yet upon the stage:
I’m but a flower in my bloom,
And wilt thou cut me down so soon!
Death.
Of age or youth I’ve never spared;
And if thou’lt look in yon church-yard,
Thou’lt see them there, in hundreds lay,
Whom I have made my lawful prey.
Sinner.
O Death; behold my parents dear
Stand round my bed with many a tear,
And loath they are to part with me,
A fruitless and a barren tree.
Death.
The tears of friends or parents dear,
Can neither break nor blunt my spear:
My name is Death, my sting is sin,
I’ll close thine eye and stretch thy limb.
Sinner.
Oh that my time were to begin!
I’d hate the road that leads to sin,
And to my God would earnest pray,
And wrestle till the break of day.
Death.
Thy Saviour thou hast grieved sore,
But time with thee shall be no more;
For when the Lord did thee invite,
The ways of sin was thy delight.
Sinner.
Oh spare me, Death, a little space,
That I may run the Christian race!
Methinks I hear the Saviour say,
Oh spare him yet another day;
Death.
The Lord so long hath spared thee,
A fruitless and a barren tree;
But Heaven’s command I must obey,
And cut thee down this very day.
Sinner.
In vain, in vain, do I persist,
If Heaven commands I can’t resist;
But spare one night for Jesus’ sake,
For, oh, my heart is like to break;
Death.
Poor sinner! I know thy heart is broke
Yet I must surely give the stroke,
For sin hath opened many a grave,
Since man to sin became a slave.
Sinner.
O Death! no mercy wilt thou show,
But unto Jesus will I go,
Who rose triumphant from the grave,
A guilty wretch like me to save.
Death.
Though sin consign thee to the gaave,
Jesus hath died thy sins to save;
His blood did flow in streams divine,
To cleanse that guilty soul of thine.
Sinner.
Oh, when that blood extracts the sting,
I’ll tune my harp and sweetly sing
To Him who rose me when I fell,
And saved my soul from death and hell.
The cross I see all stained with blood,
I view the suffering Son of God;
His precious blood was shed for me,
He paid the debt, and I am free!
Now, Death, thy sling I will defy!
For, lo, I see my Saviour nigh
Draw near, O Death, and strike the blow,
And let me to my Saviour go.
Glory to God! I now do see,
That death becomes a friend to me,
To take me from a world of woe;
Then let me to my Saviour go!
Now O my friends, whom I hold dear,
I hope you will to God draw near,
And do not shed a tear for me;
Where Jesus is, there I shall be.
My dying words do not forget,
But turn before it be too late,
And seek the Lord until you find,
For Jesus would leave none behind.
So, earthly friends, we now must part:
Give me your band, and Christ your heart.
Adieu, my friends, a long farewell
For now the love of God I feel.
H. Such, Printer and Publisher, 177, Union Street, Boro’—S.E.