I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord God:
Wherefore turn yourselves, and live ye.
All souls are Mine beneath the sky;
The soul that sinneth, it shall die:
Whate’er its life, whate’er the past,
One sin unwept is death at last.
But if before the dying day
The sinner casts his sins away,
All his misdeeds will I forgive;
He shall not surely die, but live.
O house of Israel, have I
A pleasure in the souls that die,
Who life and pardon freely give,
Who only bid thee turn and live?
My ways are just, unequal thine;
Thine all for death, for mercy mine;
Thine is the ruin, thine the strife
That will not enter into life.
See God descending in thy frame
To suffer in the sinner’s name;
Thy sins to Him imputed see,
And all His righteousness to thee!