‘Twas the night before Jesus came
And all through the house,
Not a creature was praying,
Not one in the house.
Their Bibles were lying on the shelf without care,
In hopes that Jesus would not come there
The children were dressing to crawl into bed,
Not once ever kneeling or bowing a head.
And Mom in her rocker with baby on her lap,
Was watching the late show, while I took a nap.
When out of the east there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash.
I tore back the shutters and threw back the sash.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But angels proclaiming that Jesus was here.
With a light like the sun, sending forth a bright ray,
I knew in a moment, this must be the day.
The light of His face made me cover my head.
It was Jesus returning, just like He said.
And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth,
I cried when I saw Him, in spite of myself.
In the Book of Life, which He held in His hand,
Was written the name of every saved man.
He spoke not a word as
He searched for my name.
And when He said, “It’s not here,”
I hung my head in shame.
The people whose names had been written with love,
He gathered to take to His Father above.
With all those who were ready, He rose without a sound,
While all the rest were left standing around.
I fell to my knees, but it was too late.
I’d waited too long, thus sealed my fate.
I stood and I cried as they rode out of sight.
If only I’d been ready tonight.
In the words of this poem, the meaning is clear,
The coming of Jesus is drawing near.
There’s only one life and when comes the last call,
We’ll find that the Bible was right after all.
--Author Unknown
