261

C.M.

1
How dreadful must the anguish be,
When wicked people die!
What terrors must they feel and see,
If Jesus is not nigh!

2
Death’s cruel sting, how sad the state,
That fills them with dismay!
Infernal spirits round them wait,
To bear their souls away.

3
Thy love, Lord Jesus, may we know,
In childhood’s early years,
And may Thy death and sufferings too,
Deliver us from fears.

4
That dreadful sting the Saviour took,
He loved poor sinners well,
Happy the child that has forsook
The paths that lead to hell.