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The Sluggard Soul

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Feb 5, 1914

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 91, No. 6.

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The Sluggard Soul

By F. Frederick Bliss

F. FREDERICK BLISS
AH, my soul, thy sluggard habits Shame the reason Heaven-given! Hear'st thou not the roll of chariots Glory-bent and angel-driven? Wake! and lift thine eyes once heaven- ward; See the gleaming portents there! Are not signs of Christ's returning Word-illuminated everywhere?
Ah, my soul, hast thou forgotten Pledges plighted erstwhile years— Now in ruin many lying, Mid thy penitential tears? Weep, ah, weep, till heart, clean broken, Pleads the Great Physician's touch; Till the work is wrought in fullness Thou art needing, O so much!
Ah, my soul, the heavenly Pleader Woos thee gently, nor in vain, For thou feelest now the rapture Of the wistful, heavenly strain; And the gleam of pearly portals Of the city, seen ajar, Fix thy gaze with eager longing On the bright and morning Star.