Sinner, why so id­ly stand­ing,
By the mar­ket place,
While the Lord, your heart de­mand­ing,
Calls you by His grace?
Life is in the ro­sy morn­ing,
Toils and cares are light,
Do not wait, the mes­sage scorn­ing;
Turn to Christ to­night.

Jesus calls again in kind­ness,
Speaks in ten­der­est tone,
To your soul, so full of blind­ness,
Weary, sad and lone.
Life is in the gold­en mid­day,
Half your years are sped,
Mercy can­not warn you al­way;
O to peace be led.

Still again the in­vi­ta­tion
Comes in heav’n­ly love,
Telling of a free sal­va­tion,
And a home above.
Life is in the crim­son twi­light,
Cometh fast the gloom;
Soon the bells will toll the mid­night,
Then the change­less doom.

Now the last sweet mes­sage sound­eth,
O so ear­nest­ly,
Proving still that grace abound­eth,
Lost one, come to Me.
Life is in the so­lemn mid­night,
’Tis the last ap­peal;
Yield your heart, sub­dued and con­trite,
Ere re­morse you feel.

Then, alas, the fin­al part­ing,
For eter­nal years,
While from ev­ery eye­lid start­ing
Fall the blind­ing tears;
Part with­out a hope of meet­ing,
Parent, child or friend,
Never more to hear a greet­ing,
Nor a mes­sage send.