When Descending from the Sky

When des­cend­ing from the sky

The Bride­groom shall ap­pear;

And the so­lemn mid­night cry

Shall call pro­fess­ors near:

How the sound our hearts will damp!

How will shame o’er­spread each face!

If we on­ly have a lamp

Without the oil of grace.

Foolish vir­gins then will wake

And seek for a sup­ply;

But in vain the pains they take

To bor­row or to buy:

Then with those they now des­pise

Earnestly they’ll wish to share;

But the best

among the wise

Will have no oil to spare.

Wise are they

and tru­ly blest

Who then shall rea­dy be

But des­pair will seize the rest

And dread­ful mi­se­ry:

Once

they’ll cry

we scorned to doubt

Though in lies our trust we put;

Now our lamp of hope is out

The door of mer­cy shut.

If they then pre­sume to plead

Lord op­en to us now;

We on earth have heard and prayed

And with thy saints did bow:

He will an­swer from His throne

Though you with My peo­ple mixed

Yet to Me you ne’er were known

Depart

your doom is fixed.

O that none who wor­ship here

May hear that word

De­part!

Lord im­press a god­ly fear

On each pro­fess­or’s heart:

Help us

Lord

to search the camp

Let us not our­selves be­guile;

Trusting to a dy­ing lamp

Without a stock of oil.