God gives His mercies to be spent;
Your hoard will do your soul no good.
Gold is a blessing only lent,
Repaid by giving others food.

The world’s esteem is but a bribe,
To buy their peace you sell your own;
The slave of a vainglorious tribe,
Who hate you while they make you known.

The joy that vain amusements give,
O! sad conclusion that it brings!
The honey of a crowded hive,
Defended by a thousand stings.

’Tis thus the world rewards the fools
That live upon her treacherous smiles:
She leads them, blindfold, by her rules,
And ruins all whom she beguiles.

God knows the thousands who go down
From pleasure into endless woe;
And with a long despairing groan
Blaspheme their Maker as they go.

Oh fearful thought! be timely wise;
Delight but in a Savior’s charms,
And God shall take you to the skies,
Embraced in everlasting arms.

Jesus the Lord laid His glory aside,
Sinners to save and make whole,
Freely He died our transgressions to hide,
What is He worth to your soul?

Refrain

What is He worth, what is He worth,
What is He worth to your soul?
He died on the tree, for you and for me,
What is He worth to your soul?

All that was His for the sinner He gave,
Pointed the path to the goal;
Sin would deprave, but the Savior would save,
What is He worth to your soul?

Refrain

All that He saves He will keep till the end,
Under His blessèd control;
Men may depend on this wonderful Friend,
What is He worth to your soul?

Refrain

All who will trust Him in sunshine and gloam,
Shall, when they reach the bright goal,
Ceasing to roam, be forever at home,
What is He worth to your soul?

Refrain

Say, where is thy refuge, my brother,
And what is thy prospect today?
Why toil for the wealth that will perish,
The treasures that rust and decay?
Oh, think of thy soul, that forever
Must live on eternity’s shore,
When thou in the dust art forgotten,
When pleasure can charm thee no more.

Refrain

’Twill profit thee nothing, but fearful the cost,
To gain the whole world if thy soul should be lost!
To gain the whole world if thy soul should be lost!

The Master is calling thee, brother,
In tones of compassion and love,
To feel that sweet rapture of pardon,
And lay up thy treasure above;
Oh, kneel at the cross where He suffered,
To ransom thy soul from the grave,
The arm of His mercy will hold Thee,
The arm that is mighty to save.

Refrain

The summer is waning, my brother,
Repent, ere the season is past;
God’s goodness to thee is extended,
As long as the day-beam shall last;
Then slight not the warning repeated
With all the bright moments that roll,
Nor say, when the harvest is ended,
That no one hath cared for thy soul.

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