1 Now in the heat of youthful blood,
Remember your Creator, God;
Behold the months come hast'ning on,
When you shall say my joys are gone.

2 Behold the aged sinner goes,
Laden with guilt and heavy woes,
Down to the regions of the dead,
With endless curses on his head.

3 The dust returns to dust again;
The soul in agonies of pain,
Ascends to God; not there to dwell,
But hears her doom, and sinks to hell.

4 Eternal King! I fear thy naem;
Teach me to know how frail I am;
And when my soul must hence remove;
Give me a mansion in thy love.