THE NIGHT BEFORE JESUS CAME


         Twas the night before Jesus came and all through the house,
         No one had been praying, not a soul in the house,
         Their Bibles were all stuck in the drawers without a care,
         In hopes that Jesus would not come there.

         The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
         Not once ever kneeling or bowing their heads,
         And mom in her kerchief and I in my cap,
         Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

         When out of the East there arose such a clatter,
         I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter,
         Away to the door I flew like a flash,
         Tore open the window and threw up the sash.

         When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
         But angels proclaiming that Jesus was here,
         With a light like the sun sending a ray,
         I knew in a moment it must be THE DAY.

         The light of His face made me turn my head,
         It was Jesus of Nazareth, alive, risen from the dead,
         And though I had mountains of this world's wealth,
         I cried when I saw Him, in spite of myself.

         In the Book of Life that He held tight in His hand,
         Was written in Blood, the name of each saved man -
         He spoke not a word, as He searched for my name.
         When He said, "It's not written," my head hung in shame.

         The people whose names had been written in Blood,
         He gathered to take to His Father above.
         With those that were saved, He rose without sound,
         While those who had rejected Him were left standing around.

         I fell to my knees just minutes too late,
         I had waited too long, and had thus sealed my fate.
         I stood and I cried as they rose out of sight,
         Oh, if only I had been ready tonight.

         In reading this poem, the meaning is clear.
         The returning of Jesus is drawing quite near.


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