by Guest » Sun Jun 05, 2011 3:53 am
I took Jesus as my Saviour on a night so long ago
And I found a perfect refuge where the stormy winds can't blow
And now I want to tell the world lest one lost soul should die
That I chance to meet, or even greed, yet I let my chance go by....
Souls are dying, souls we aught to win
Souls that will reap in Hell the wages of their sin
Oh Christian don't you care? Oh, can't you see them there?
Lose your wicked pride, then pray and cry
and never let a chance go by.
In this dark black night of sinning
In this hell-bent path of lust
Men are wounded, bleeding, dying,
Sin turns bodies back to dust
And souls are cast into the fire where they shall ever cry
For you would not tell of that awful hell, you let your chance go by
Soon you'll stand before your maker, He'll judge your works with fire
And the blood of poor lost sinners on your hands in bloody mire
Will be evidence of unconcern, he'll judge your works with fire
For you would not pray, and you won't obey, you let your chance go by
Souls are dying, souls we aught to win
Souls that will reap in Hell the wages of their sin
Oh Christian don't you care? Oh can't you see them there?
Loose your wicked pride; then pray and cry and never let a chance go by.
I took Jesus as my Saviour on a night so long ago
And I found a perfect refuge where the stormy winds can't blow
And now I want to tell the world lest one lost soul should die
That I chance to meet, or even greed, yet I let my chance go by....
Souls are dying, souls we aught to win
Souls that will reap in Hell the wages of their sin
Oh Christian don't you care? Oh, can't you see them there?
Lose your wicked pride, then pray and cry
and never let a chance go by.
In this dark black night of sinning
In this hell-bent path of lust
Men are wounded, bleeding, dying,
Sin turns bodies back to dust
And souls are cast into the fire where they shall ever cry
For you would not tell of that awful hell, you let your chance go by
Soon you'll stand before your maker, He'll judge your works with fire
And the blood of poor lost sinners on your hands in bloody mire
Will be evidence of unconcern, he'll judge your works with fire
For you would not pray, and you won't obey, you let your chance go by
Souls are dying, souls we aught to win
Souls that will reap in Hell the wages of their sin
Oh Christian don't you care? Oh can't you see them there?
Loose your wicked pride; then pray and cry and never let a chance go by.