On ev­ery side a voice I hear
That loud­er speak­eth year by year,
A voice I dare not light­ly treat,
Prepare, pre­pare thy God to meet.

The fall­ing leaf, the fad­ing flow­er,
The sink­ing sun at ev­en­ing’s hour
All ev­er­more to me re­peat,
Prepare, pre­pare thy God to meet.

The fu­ner­al train, the toll­ing bell,
The grave, where, dy­ing, I must dwell,
My ach­ing heart speaks with each beat,
Prepare, pre­pare thy God to meet.

Where’er I turn, what­e’er I do,
This warn­ing mes­sage thrills me thro’,
In si­lent hall, or noi­sy street,
Prepare, pre­pare thy God to meet.