1  "Must I go, and empty-handed,"

    Thus my dear Redeemer meet?

    Not one day of service give Him,

    Lay no trophy at His feet?

 2  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.

 3  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.

 4  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.