"Must I go, and empty-handed,"

Thus my dear Redeemer meet?

Not one day of service give Him,

Lay no trophy at His feet?

Not at death I shrink nor falter,

For my Savior saves me now;

But to meet Him empty-handed,

Thought of that now clouds my brow.

O the years in sinning wasted;

Could I but recall them now,

I would give them to my Savior,

To His will I'd gladly bow.

O ye saints, arouse, be earnest,

Up and work while yet 'tis day;

Ere the night of death o'ertake thee,

Strive for souls while still you may.