Behold, the Bridegroom Cometh (Moultrie)

Behold

the Bride­groom com­eth in

The mid­dle of the night

And blest is he whose loins are girt

Whose lamp is burn­ing bright;

But woe to that dull serv­ant

whom

The Mas­ter shall sur­prise

With lamp un­trimmed

un­burn­ing and

With slum­ber in his eyes.

Do thou

my soul

be­ware

be­ware

Lest thou in sleep sink down

Lest thou be giv­en o’er to death

And lose the gold­en crown;

But see that thou be so­ber

with

A watch­ful eye

and thus

Cry—Holy

ho­ly

ho­ly God

Have mer­cy up­on us.

That day

the day of fear

shall come;

My soul

slack not thy toil

But light thy lamp

and feed it well

And make it bright with oil;

Who know­est not how soon may sound

The cry at ev­en­tide

Behold the Bride­groom comes! Arise!

Go forth to meet the bride.

Beware

my soul; be­ware

be­ware

Lest thou in slum­ber lie

And like

the five

re­main with­out

And knock

and vain­ly cry;

But watch

and bear thy lamp un­dimmed

And Christ shall gird thee on

His on bright wed­ding robe of light—

The glo­ry of the Son.