1 Come all who've spent your blooming days
In our own lusts, and Satan's ways;
Bow down to God, confess our sin,
Lest you should never enter in--
2 In thro' the gate that is on high,
Which leads to joys above the sky;
Where all the saints their voices raise,
Rejoice and sing their maker's praise.
3 All who do wish to pass this gate,
Must walk upright and very straight;
If you should miss this gate I know,
Down to a burning hell you'll go.
4 There endless sorrow, endless pain,
Without a hope of peace again;
Oh! then your aching souls will say,
"Why did we God so disobey."
5 His hand was stretch'd forth all the day,
We cannot have one word to say;
For we have had many a call,
And we like fools rejected all.
6 One word of caution to the young,
Who never have God's praise sung;
Give up to christ before too late,
Or else in heal you'll have your fate.
7 Down with the hellish devils there,
Lock'd down in horror and despair;
But oh! the formidable cries,
That fill the earth and reach the skies.
8 They turn their eyes to heav'n and see,
Where all the righteous people be?
Look down into a gaping hell,
See where the devil's host doth dwell.
9 This heaven is a happy place,
Where all the people's fill'd with grace;
This hell it is a place of spite,
Where sorrow are that's infinite.
10 Come mind the words which I have penn'd,
Lest down to hell God should you send;
The place I will describe once more,
"Tis where the devils always roar.
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