Where Jesus has reigned, now there’s no room within;

A host of his murderers dwell in the heart;

Rejected, though grieved, he’s obliged to depart.

As he goes who can know he will ever return?

That the blessing is lost we may soon have to learn,

With a wail of despair, a lamentable cry,

We may soon see ourselves forever passed by.

Too late! oh, too late! now my soul must be lost;

Though redemption was offered at infinite cost;

Though help has been laid on one mighty to save;

To self and the world I the preference gave.

Could the hope of salvation be given once more,

Would we not turn our backs on our Lord, as before?

Would not the same spirit still bear the same fruit?

And the Lord still to us our transgressions impute?

Oh! poor fallen man, rushing on to despair,

With high hopes all anchored in earth’s fatal snare,

To be swept away soon, with the refuge of lies,

While the soul in deep anguish the second death dies.

Depart from Sin.

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