Original Poetry by Joseph BUDGE My friend for you my heart is grieved,
For you my soul's distressed;
When I think o'er your awful state,
Your state of wickedness
You say that I am impudent,
And truly have no right
To speak to you about your soul,
Except I give you light
This I would freely give to you,
If you will light receive;
And take my Saviour at his word,
And thus on Him believe.
But this you say you will not do, A
For Christ is naught to me;
For I am rich increased in goods, B
And have no need of thee.
Yet Jesus wept, shed many tears,
In accents of great grief;
Exclaimed "Oh Jerusalem"
While tears ran down his cheeks.
Who killest the holy prophets,
And stonest those I sent;
But still Christ fain would gather thee,
If you will but repent.
How oft would I have gathered you,
As doth a hen her brood;
Yet all myself and prophets said, C
You sternly have withstood.
You said to me the other day,
That you had once believed;
Until against my lovely Lord,
Some evil you'd conceived.
You tell me you are happy now,
And nothing want beside;
The pleasure which this world afford;
And it's real merchandise.
You say in progress you believe,
In getting all you can;
By honest dealing in this world,
With your own fellow man
But did not say one single word,
Of what your end would be;
When you are done with things of earth,
What of eternity??
That home which never has an end,
Will last eternally;
There your immortal soul must live,
For it can never die.
I know not what you think yourself,
But this I know full well;
If you reject our Saviour's call,
He'll send your soul to hell.
All power is given unto Him,
And he now with you strives;
That you may be made meet for heaven,
And dwell in paradise.
But you resolve you will not go,
With Christ comply;
But rather take the road to hell,
And die eternally.
This is the stand taken by you,
And firmly do you say,
God's way is harsh and stubborn too,
With it you won't comply.
Oh that my head were water springs,
My eyes fountains of tears;
Then day and night for you I'd weep, D
Through my remaining years.
Oh what a death to you t'will be,
If you continue in
The road that leadeth you to hell,
Your awful, wilful sin.
For now your gold has turned to dross,
Your love has all decayed; E
Now you despise our lovely Lord,
Whom you so oft have praised.
But now you hate the God you loved,
The Saviour you adored;
And now are doing all you can,
To get His name abhorr'd.
This you and yours, nor all the host,
With whom you are engaged;
Can't disannul God's sacred plan,
Nor Satan in his rage.
Then why should you your soul's distress,
Or get in such a plight;
Seeing all power to Him belongs,
Though earth and hell unite.
Against my only Saviour dear,
Who reigns supreme o'er all;
In heaven above where he reside,
And this terrestrial ball.
