Hast Thou No Hope of Heaven? by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Jan 13, 1909

Hast Thou No Hope of Heaven?

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle.

I. Hast thou no hope of heaven? time flies away, And life is short, its moments will not stay; Already in the darkening heavens afar, We note the twinkling of the evening star; And shadows dim are creeping o'er the land, That mark the coming of the night at hand.

II. Hast thou no hope of heaven? the joys of earth Are transitory and of little worth; Thy gold will canker, and thy silver rust, And thy poor form lie low within the dust, For time is short, and ah, thy days are brief,— Death's angel waiteth for the ripened sheaf.

III. How canst thou rest upon thy couch at night, Careless and thoughtless, when, ere morning light Thy beating heart may, weary, cease to beat, And endless rest come to thy busy feet? Finished at last thy journey to the goal,— "The cord be loosed," and broke the "golden bowl."

IV. But should thy days be lengthened out to thee Till thou the coming of the King shalt see, How shall thy trembling spirit shrink and fail! With abject terror shall thy cheek grow pale, While those whom thou hast scoffed shall swell the song: "Lo, this is He for whom we've waited long."

V. Hast thou no hope of heaven? the city waits,— The regal city, with her pearly gates,— Her twelve foundations and her jasper sea, Her crystal river, and her healing tree. Is not this worth thy puny offerings small?— Ah, heaven's worth thy life—'tis worth thine all.