LAY UP YOUR TREASURES IN HEAVEN.
By H. M. Kilgore
Tune—“Old folks at home.” Far down upon time's rapid river,
Our frail bark we see;
Onward, still onward drifting ever,
Nearer eternity.
Round the eternal shore there's breakers—
E'en now we hear
The murmur of their distant thunders,
And we know the shore must be near. Soon the world with all its pleasures,
Will have passed away;
Oh then in Heaven lay up your treasures
Where they will never decay. More narrow is the channel growing—
On every hand.
The waves are hidden reefs o'ерflowing,
And dangerous shoals of quicksand.
The heav'ns above with dark and threat'ning
Clouds are o'ercast—
Over the waters gloom is settling—
A storm is gathering fast. A moment now the sky is bright'ning,
As night draws near;
But soon we'll see the vivid lightning—
Soon will the storm be here.
Although the tempest overtake us,
To the Lord we'll cling;
For he has promised ne'er to leave us;
Our bark to port he will bring. Then the world with all its pleasures,
Will have passed away;
But we'll possess the heavenly treasures,
Treasures which never decay.