The summer is ended, O God!
And the harvest forever past,
While heedless life’s earnest path I have trod,
And now I’m undone at last;
With the best of intentions my path I have paved,
But the harvest is ended, my soul is not saved.
I am not saved; I am not saved;
The harvest is ended, and I am not saved.
The dews of God’s grace have come down;
Thro’ the spring and the summer eves
The beautiful rays of autumn’s bright sun
Have ripened full many sheaves;
All the while with vain dreamings my way I have paved
Till the summer is ended and I am not saved.
Full often His still gentle voice
Has encouraged my wayward heart
To choose, in the place of life’s fleeting joys,
that better part,
But alas! every warning my proud heart has braved,
Till summer is ended and I am not saved.