Enquire, my soul, enquire!
What doth the watchman say?
Is the One object of desire
Upon the way?
What doth the watchman say,
Whose cry the slumberer wakes?
“The night hath nearly passed away:
The morning breaks.”
“The night is coming, too!
A night of speechless woe:
But there shall be no night to you
Who Jesus know.”
“Come, whosoever will,
Ere God’s right hand He leaves:
He waits till He His bosom fill
With all His sheaves.”
“God speaks—shall we be dumb?
Watch, that your lamps may burn:
Come, all ye weary wanderers, come!
Return, return.”
Take up the watchman’s word;
Repeat the midnight cry:
“Prepare to meet your coming Lord;
The time draws nigh.”
Make ready, O my soul!
Make ready, Christians dear!
Yield up the heart’s affections whole;
Our Lord is near.
The hours with eager flight
Pass on, till He appear:
The moment of unknown delight
Will soon be here.
And in that blissful day,
When saints around Him dwell,
‘Twill be their joy to hear Him say,
They loved Him well.