The Bridegroom comes! My soul, awake,
And slumber from thine eyelids shake;
Hark! in the midnight hour the cry;
Bestir, my soul, for He is nigh.
Now trim your lamp, and let its light
Illume the darkness of the night;
And with the tarrying host attend
The Bridegroom, as the Bridegroom’s friend.
Hast thou no oil? O foolish soul!
Why didst thou not the hours control?
Why in the darkness slumber still,
Without the oil your lamp to fill?
Go, get your oil,—but no, too late!
The Bridegroom’s come, and closed the gate;—
“O let me knock, for He is kind,
And will not leave my soul behind.”
“O let me in, my lamp’s aglow;
How could I, Lord, Thy coming know?
’Twas night, I slumbered,—let me in:
Forgive, O Lord, forgive my sin.”
Too late! The time has gone apace;
Too late, ’tis gone, the hour of grace;
O soul of mine, awake, awake,
And slumber from thine eyelids shake.
Hymns from the East, 1907