Jeremiah 8:20: The harvest of my joys is pass'd

The harvest of my joys is pass'd,
The summer of my comforts fled,
Yet am I unredeem'd at last,
And sink unsaved among the dead,'
If on the margin of the grave
Thou canst not in a moment save.

Destroy me not by Thy delay,
Delay is endless death to me:
But the last moment of my day
Is as a thousand years to Thee:
Come, Jesus, while my head I bow,
And show me Thy salvation now!

The summer of my youth is pass'd,
The winter of old age is here;
Yet, O my God, unsaved at last,
Unchanged, unholy I appear:
I am not in Thine image found,
A mere, mere helpless sinner I,
A wretched cumberer of the ground,
Not fit to live, not fit to die.

Mercy as with my latest breath,
Mercy in Jesus I implore.
My Ransomer from sin and death.
Spirit of life, and love, and power.
Enter this desperate, dying heart,
A saint out of a sinner bring.
And saved, I then in peace depart,
And Jesu's praise for ever sing.