Plenty for pleasure, but little for Jesus;
                                        
                                        Time for the world with its troubles and toys,
                                        
                                        No time for Jesus’ work, feeding the hungry,
                                        
                                        Lifting lost souls to eternity’s joys.
                                        
                                        Perishing, perishing! Hark, how they call us;
                                        
                                        Bring us your Savior, oh, tell us of Him!
                                        
                                        We are so weary, so heavily laden,
                                        
                                        And with long weeping our eyes have grown dim.