IT may be in the evening,
When the work of the day is done.
And you have time to sit in the twilight
And watch the sinking sun;
While the long bright day dies slowly
Over the sea,
And the hour grows quiet and holy
With thoughts of Me;
While you hear the village children
Passing along the street.
Among those thronging footsteps
May come the sound of My feet:
Therefore I tell you, WATCH.
By the light of the evening star,
When the room is growing dusky
As the clouds afar;
Let the door be on the latch
In your home.
For it may be through the gloaming
I will come.
“It may be when the midnight
Is heavy upon the land,
And the black waves lying dumbly
Along the sand;
When the moonless night draws close.
And the lights are out in the house
When the fires burn low and red,
And the watch is ticking londly
Beside the bed:
Though you sleep tired out, on your couch,
Still you’re your heart wait and watch
In the dark room,
For it may be that at midnight
I will come.
“It may be at the cock-crow.
When the night is dying slowly
In the sky.
And the sea looks calm and holy
Waiting for the dawn
Of the golden sun
Which draweth nigh;
When the mists are on the valleys shading
The rivers chill,
And My morning-star is fading, fading
Over the hill;
Behold, I say unto you, WATCH.
Let the door be on the latch
In your home;
In the chill before the dawning.
Between the night and morning,
I may come.
“It may be in the morning,
When the sun is bright and strong.
And the dew is glittering sharply
Over the little lawn;
When the waves are laughing loudly
Along the shore,
And the little birds are singing sweetly
About the door;
With the long day’s work before you.
You rise up with the sun,
And the neighbors come in to talk a little
Of all that must be done;
But remember that I may be the next
To come in at the door,
To call you from all your busy work
For evermore;
As you work your heart must watch.
For the door is on the latch
In your home,
And it may be in the morning
I will come.”
So, I am watching quietly
Every day.
Whenever the sun shines brightly
I rise and say —
“Surely it is the shining of His face,”
And look unto the gates of His high place
Beyond the sea,
For I know He is coming shortly
To summon me.
And when a shadow falls across the window
Of my room,
Where I am working my appointed task,
I lift my head to watch the door, and ask
If He is come;
And the Angel answers sweetly
In my home —
“Only a few more shadows,
And He will come.”
By permission of Messrs. Thos. Nelson & Sons. Edinburgh