"Swift with melodious feet, the midnight hours pass by;
As with each passing bell so sweet, I think, 'My Lord
draws nigh.'
I see heaven's open door, I hear God's gracious voice;
I see the blood-washed round the throne, and with them
I rejoice.
"It may be that these sounds are the golden bells so sweet,
Which tell me of the near approach of the heav'nly High
Priest's feet.
Not every night is thus; some nights with pain are drear;
Then I join my moan with creation's groan, and the
chimes I do not hear.
"But the Lord remains the same; faithful He must abide;
And on His Word my soul will rest, for He is by my side.
Some midnight, sleepless saints, made quick by pain to hear,
Shall join the glad and welcome cry, 'The Bridegroom
draweth near.'
"Then I shall see His face, His beauteous image bear;
I'll know His love and wondrous grace, and in His glory
share.
So sing my soul in praise, as bells chime o'er and o'er,
The coming of the Lord draws near, when time shall be
no more."
—D. W. Whittle (1840-1901) |
