My barns are full, my stores increase,
And now, for many years,
Soul, eat and drink, and take thine ease,
Secure from wants and fears.
Thus while a worldling boasted once,
As many now presume;
He heard the Lord Himself pronounce
His sudden, awful doom.
This night, vain fool, thy soul must pass
Into a world unknown;
And who shall then the stores possess
Which thou hast called thine own?
Thus blinded mortals fondly scheme
For happiness below;
Till death disturbs the pleasing dream,
And they awake to woe.
Ah! who can speak the vast dismay
That fills the sinner’s mind;
When torn, by death’s strong hand, away,
He leaves his all behind.
Wretches, who cleave to earthly things,
But are not rich to God;
Their dying hour is full of stings,
And hell their dark abode.
Dear Savior, make us timely wise,
Thy Gospel to attend;
That we may live above the skies,
When this poor life shall end.