I stood at the time-beaten portals,
Where many a pilgrim had passed
Out into the infinite future,
To be with the pure and the blest;
And, musing in silent devotion,
Eternity seemed to draw near;
And strains from the choir of the faithful
I seemed in my fancy to hear.
Hear the solemn footsteps
I lingered, and silently listened
To the dull, heavy tread of the years,
And thought of the fate of the guilty,
When Christ in His glory appears;
A shudder came over my spirit,
As I thought what a moment might cost,
For eternity’s stillness was broken
By the groans and the sighs of the lost.
I saw then the Judge in His splendor,
As He stepped to His great judgment seat,
And thought of the crashing of ages,
When Time and Eternity meet;
For Time, who has laid many millions
To slumber in death’s silent shade,
Shall reel at Eternity’s presence,
And sleep in the tomb he has made.
Let us work while ’tis day, brother, sister,
For soon shall the Master return,
To garner the wheat that we harvest,
The chaff in His fury to burn;
Then in haste let us rush to the rescue,
But few can we save at the most:
Soon millions shall be at the judgment,
Forever, eternally lost.