p. 147 | THE SINNER'S PORTION by E. O. D.

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Mar 11, 1886

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 12, No. 10.

THE SINNER'S PORTION.

By E. O. D.

OH! where shall I hide while the storm sweeps by? No place of refuge, no shelter nigh, No shade of a rock in a weary land, No oasis on the desert sand! No mother's love, no father's home, Can shelter this poor, doomed, wandering one. "Toil without recompense, tears all in vain;" No hope now a future rest to gain. No note can I strike in that glorious strain That swells to the praise of Immanuel's name; No part can I take in that chorus sweet That blends with the sound of the dancers' feet. No place have I in those bright spheres Where God shall wipe away all tears. No draught for me from the crystal tide That flows the throne of God beside; No seat on the bank of the river of life, With the ransomed ones free from care and strife, No rest for the weary, no light can I see Placed in the window of Heaven for me.

I stood once the living fount beside, But I would not drink from its healing tide. I would not list to the Saviour's voice, On the world's gay pleasures fixed my choice; At my heart's closed door he waited long, But I turned away with the giddy throng. From the temple of Heaven, from the throne, The voice hath spoken: "It is done!" "Too late! too late!" my anguished cry, "The angel of mercy hath passed me by!"

Not yet hath that fearful die been cast; Not yet hath the pitying angel passed. Sinner, to-day look up, and see, Heaven's gate is open still for thee. O, heed it now, the Spirit's cry,— "Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?" —E. O. D., in Review and Herald.