Nothing but Leaves

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Feb 21, 1878

Nothing but Leaves.

How, how shall we meet Him At the last, great day, When the shining and the shading Have forever passed away? When the Master stands waiting For clusters and sheaves, Then, friends, dare we meet him With nothing but leaves?

Rich fields lie around us Of bright, golden, grain, The vine's heavy clusters Grow purple in vain. Dare we linger here still, Knowing well whom it grieves, And then meet the Master With nothing but leaves?

Leaves, nothing but leaves, That we've called o'er and o'er, Pleasures born but to die, Bliss to be ours no more, Dreams that fade with the light, Hope that lures and deceives, Lose we heaven for these, friends, For nothing but leaves?

Why stand we here idle? Swift passeth the light, And steadily o'er us Is coming the night. Then work while the day lasts And gather the sheaves, So we meet not the Master, With nothing but leaves.