We’re near­ing the clos­ing
Of time’s mor­tal year,
God’s king­dom doth now
As ten vir­gins ap­pear,
Who are go­ing for­ward,
The Bride­groom to meet,
With lamps trimmed and burn­ing
To di­rect their feet.

Refrain

Behold, the Bride­groom cometh,
Behold, the Bride­groom cometh,
Behold, the Bride­groom cometh,
Go ye out to meet Him.

With oil in their ves­sels
The wise for­ward go,
Their lamps shin­ing bright
And their hearts white as snow;
They’re rea­dy each mo­ment
To wel­come the Lord,
Who short­ly is com­ing
To take them to God.

Refrain

The fool­ish go for­ward
Without any oil,
They’re just as con­tent­ed
As those who have oil.
They trust in the fu­ture
The oil to sup­ply,
They’ll wake soon to find
That their lamps are burned dry.

Refrain

Lo now, just at mid­night,
The watch­man they hear,
Awake from your slum­bers,
The Bride­groom is near;
The fool­ish to trim their lamps,
Quickly arise,
Our lamps are gone out,
They all cry in sur­prise.

Refrain

The fool­ish to wise say
Give us of your oil;
Not so, lest there not
Be enough for us all;
Go ye to the mer­chants
And buy for your­selves.
Alas, ’tis too late,
They have just ceased to sell.

Refrain

Lo, now comes the Bride­groom,
With an­gel­ic host,
All those who are rea­dy,
Go into the feast;
The door be­ing closed,
Cmes the fool­ish to knock,
Depart, saith the Lord,
I in­deed know you not.

Refrain