When descending from the sky <br />The Bridegroom shall appear; <br />And the solemn midnight cry, <br />Shall call professors near: <br />How the sound our hearts will damp! <br />How will shame o'erspread each face! <br />If we only have a lamp, <br />Without the oil of grace. <br /> <br />Foolish virgins then will wake <br />And seek for a supply; <br />But in vain the pains they take <br />To borrow or to buy: <br />Then with those they now despise, <br />Earnestly they'll wish to share; <br />But the best, among the wise, <br />Will have no oil to spare. <br /> <br />Wise are they, and truly blest, <br />Who then shall ready be <br />But despair will seize the rest, <br />And dreadful misery: <br />Once, they'll cry, we scorned to doubt, <br />Though in lies our trust we put; <br />Now our lamp of hope is out, <br />The door of mercy shut. <br /> <br />If they then presume to plead, <br />Lord open to us now; <br />We on earth have heard and prayed, <br />And with thy saints did bow: <br />He will answer from his throne, <br />Though you with my people mixed, <br />Yet to me you ne'er were known, <br />Depart, your doom is fixed. <br /> <br />O that none who worship here <br />May hear that word, Depart! <br />Lord impress a godly fear <br />On each professor's heart: <br />Help us, Lord, to search the camp, <br />Let us not ourselves beguile; <br />Trusting to a dying lamp <br />Without a stock of oil.<br /><br />John Newton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-foolish-virgins/
