LADY had a dream one night,
That filled her spirit with surprise
She stood in fields of azure light,
Before the gates of Paradise.
With gracious mien, and love benign,
A Being on the threshold stood;
Within those realms of joy divine
The guest might enter, if she would.
“There now is room," He said, "today!”
Slowly she answer made, "Not yet.”
With faltering step she turned away—
Her heart on this poor world was set.
Alas those words I How they forget
Who utter them (one scarce knows how)
That they who say in life "Not yet,”
In throes of death may cry "Not now.”
Time wheeled with rapid flight his course,
And twice six years passed quickly by;
A fell disease of potent force
Proclaims to all that she must die.
Once more she dreams, and now again
The pearly gates of Paradise,
Where enter neither death nor pain,
Appear before her gladdened eyes.
Desirous now to enter in,
Loud the procrastinator knocks.
The Porter's air of deep chagrin
At once her sanguine spirit shocks.
Anticipations all are chilled,—
No time that moment will efface,—
He said, " Too late, your seat is filled;
An earlier comer has your place.”
- - -
Death claimed its prey, the end had come;
The woman, unrepentant, died;
Procrastination robbed of "home”
One who could not for Christ decide.
How true: “God speaketh once, yea twice;
In dreams, in visions of the night,
But man perceiveth not,"—the vice
Of indecision dims his sight.
Come NOW, “if ye will hear his voice,
While it is called today," saith He.
Who on tomorrow set their choice
May rue it through eternity.
C. E. P.