G. W. F.
Christian Friend vol. 17, 1890, p. 17.
ANOTHER year its course has run,
And stamped its change on all below;
The century's last decade begun
How it shall end, none here can know.
The "little while" is growing less,
The Lord His promise shall fulfil,
He'll come Himself His saints to bless,
And thus complete the Father's will.
The hour is fixed, the day is near
When He will call them hence away;
His well-known voice each one shall hear,
And pass into eternal day.
Then closed the open door shall be,
Repentance cease to find a place;
And to the dens and caves they flee
Who had refused the proffered grace;
Who would not hear that gracious voice
Inviting weary ones to come,
Shall then be left without a choice
To meet the sinner's awful doom.
What voice is that which now we hear?
Whose sound the echoes still repeat,
"Behold the Bridegroom! He is near!
Go forth your coming Lord to meet."
Ye sleeping saints, awake! awake!
And trim your dying lamps anew,
Our cloudless morning soon shall break;
That midnight cry calls loud to you.
G. W. F.