The Foolish Virgins.

I

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!

II

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.

III

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 scorn’d to doubt,
Though in lies our trust we put;
Now our lamp of hope is out⁠—
The door of mercy shut.

IV

If they then presume to plead,
“Lord, open to us now;
We on earth have heard and pray’d,
And with thy saints did bow:”
He will answer from his throne
“Though you with my people mix’d,
Yet to me you ne’er were known;
Depart, your doom is fix’d.”

V

Oh 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.