1 A few more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come,
And we shall meet the loved who now
Are sleeping in the tomb:
Then, O may Lord, prepare
My soul for that great day;
O, wash me in thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

2 A few more storms shall beat
On this wild, rocky shore,
And we shall be where tempests cease,
And surges swell no more:
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that calm day;
O, wash me in thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

3 A few more struggles here,
A few more partings sore,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more:
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that blest day;
O, wash me in thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

4 'Tis but a little while,
And He shall come again,
Who died that we might live, who lives
That we may with him reign:
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that glad day;
O, wash me in thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!