1: There is a time—we know not when, a point—we know not where, That marks the destiny of men to glory or despair; There is a line, by us unseen, that crosses ev’ry path, The hidden boundary between God’s patience and His wrath.
2 To pass that limit is to die, to die as if by stealth; It does not quench the beaming eye, nor fade the glow of health; The conscience may be still at ease, the spirit light and gay; That which is pleasing, still may please, and care be thrust away.
3 But on that forehead God has set indelibly a mark, Unseen by man, for man, as yet, is blind and in the dark; And yet the doomed man’s path below like Eden may have bloomed, He did not, does not, will not know nor feel that he is doomed.
4 He thinks or feels that all is well, and ev’ry fear is calmed; He lives, he dies, he wakes in Hell, not only doomed but damned! Oh, where is this mysterious bourn by which our path is crossed, Beyond which God Himself hath sworn that he who goes is lost?
5 How far may we go on in sin? how long will God forbear? Where does hope end, and where begin the confines of despair? An answer from the skies is sent, “Ye that from God depart, While it is called “today” repent, and harden not your heart.
Refrain: Oh, come today, do not delay, too late it soon will be; To Jesus fly, for mercy cry, He waits to welcome thee.