Sinner, why so idly stand­ing,
By the market place,
While the Lord, your heart de­mand­ing,
Calls you by His grace?
Life is in the rosy morn­ing,
Toils and cares are light,
Do not wait, the mes­sage scorn­ing;
Turn to Christ to­night.

Jesus calls again in kind­ness,
Speaks in tenderest tone,
To your soul, so full of blind­ness,
Weary, sad and lone.
Life is in the golden mid­day,
Half your years are sped,
Mercy cannot warn you al­way;
O to peace be led.

Still again the in­vi­ta­tion
Comes in heav’nly love,
Telling of a free sal­va­tion,
And a home above.
Life is in the crimson twi­light,
Cometh fast the gloom;
Soon the bells will toll the mid­night,
Then the changeless doom.

Now the last sweet mes­sage sound­eth,
O so earnestly,
Proving still that grace abound­eth,
Lost one, come to Me.
Life is in the solemn mid­night,
’Tis the last appeal;
Yield your heart, sub­dued and con­trite,
Ere remorse you feel.

Then, alas, the final part­ing,
For eter­nal years,
While from every eyelid start­ing
Fall the blinding tears;
Part without a hope of meet­ing,
Parent, child or friend,
Never more to hear a greet­ing,
Nor a message send.