Yet there is room! The Lamb's bright hall of song,
With its fair glory, beckons thee along;
Room, room, still room!
Oh, enter, enter now!
Day is declining, and the sun is low;
The shadows lengthen, light makes haste to go.
The bridal hall is filling for the feast:
Pass in, pass in, and be the Bridegroom's guest.
It fills, it fills, that hall of jubilee!
Make haste, make haste: 'tis not too full for thee.
Yet there is room! Still open stands the gate,
The gate is love; it is not yet too late.
Pass in, pass in! That banquet is for thee:
That cup of everlasting love is free.
Louder and sweeter sounds the loving call:
Come, lingerer, come; enter that festal hall.
Ere night that gate may close, and seal thy doom:
Then the last, low, long cry, "No room! no room!"
No room! no room!
Oh, woeful cry—"No room!"