Why build on the sandy foundation,
Where torrents and tempests beat high?
Why hide thy poor soul in the stubble
When storms gather fast in the sky?
The sun will not always be shining,
The skies will not always be fair,
And when the blast falls in its fury,
No time then for purpose or prayer.
Then, quick to thy refuge, to Calvary fly;
The soul that neglects it forever shall die,
The soul that neglects it forever shall die.
Too long you have tarried already,
The morning of life has passed by;
The season of mercy is waning,
The season of wrath draweth nigh.
No longer seek riches or pleasure,
But think of how fearful the cost,
If all of earth’s stores you gather,
And then be eternally lost.
O, sweet is the pleading of Jesus,
And great is the love of His heart,
But soon from the throne of His judgment
His justice will bid you depart.
Then hark to the voice of His mercy,
While now at the door He stands,
And weeps for your sin and your folly,
And knocks with His nail-piercèd hands.