ALL mortals fain the time wou'd know
When Christ shall judge the world below ;
But better 'tis they shou'd prepare,
Ere they to judgement shall repair.

How foolish is the son of man,
Who wou'd know more than angels can,
And by mere guess-work understand
The secret counsel God has plann'd?

For if no angel, fiend, or man,
Can comprehend the mystic plan -
If the whole world cannot divine,
Or clearly ken his least design -

In vain wou'd any one reveal,
What God determines to conceal,
Or shew, by a mere guess alone,
What was to Christ, as man, unknown.

Learn then of Christ, what he reveals,
Aim not to know what he conceals:
What in the gospel is exprest,
Belongs to man - to God the rest.

Then study not to understand
The secret things, which God has plann'd,
Or if thou shou'dst - 'twill be in vain,
And nought but shame thou'lt thence obtain.

Full many in the deep are drown'd,
Who seek its vast abyss to sound;
Full many blinded are, who try
To view the sun, with stedfast eye.

Full certain is the day of doom,
Though none, but God, knows when 'twill come:
Why then shou'd man attempt to show,
What none, but God himself does know?

Though ev'ry man shou'd speak his mind,
Yet neither angel, man, or fiend,
Can tell the hour, the day, or year,
When Christ to judge them shall appear.

Stand therefore all upon your guard,
And for his Advent be prepar'd:
The day, the hour, no soul can trace,
When Christ will come with silent pace.

Peter and James of Christ inquir'd,
Before He from the earth retir'd,
'Lord, shew us, ere thou dost ascend,
'The time, this world shall have an end.'

But he to them made this reply,
'It is not mortal man's - to pry
'Into the same, the day, and hour,
'Which God has kept in his own pow'r.'

This secret is, to God alone,
And to no other Being, known:
Be still prepar'd to meet your doom;
For no one knows when Christ will come.

The wisest of the sons of men,
The best-lov'd angel knows not, when
He'll come - then of deceit take heed,
Nor add vain stories to your creed.

Elias, as some say, foretold
This world six thousand years wou'd hold,
And after that in flaming fire
(Though it shall be renew'd) expire.

Two thousand, ere the law was spoke -
Two thousand, under Moses' yoke -
As many shou'd (since Christ) be past -
If it indeed so long shou'd last.

Its ages, as they say, are three -
The first, from any sanction free -
The next by Moses' law was bound -
The third is by the gospel crown'd.

Two of them are already past,
The third as yet is seen to last ;
But how much longer, can be known
To none, but into God alone.

One thousand and six hundred years,
With twenty more, as it appears,
Of this are now elaps'd - then mind,
There can't be much of it behind.

The greatest doctors all agree
The last is shortest of the three;
As God has promis'd it to make
More short, for his Elected's sake.

We find that, in John's sacred page,
This age is term'd the latter age,
If so, when he his writings penn'd
It now must needs be near its end.

The end of all things was at hand,
When Peter preach'd, I understand:
If, in his time, 'twas so - 'tis clear,
That it must now be very near.

If, in
his
days, th' apostle Paul,
The time, the day, the hour, did call
The last - then this (all must agree)
Must needs the last of minutes be.

This world, as Saint Augustine told,
Is like a man, that's lame and old,
On crutches propp'd, his body bent,
And can't have many days unspent.

Let us all vigilant appear,
The great, th' important, day is near ;
Christ says, 'tis even at the door,
Oil in our lamps, then, let us pour.

'Tis certain Christ will soon appear,
But the time when, is not yet clear :
How son, is not to man declar'd;
Let us then always be prepar'd.

There's neither man, nor heav'nly pow'r,
That knows (Christ says) the day, or hour :
It is a mystic secret known
Unto th' Eternal Sire alone.

It therefore is absurd and vain
That men shou'd labour to attain
A knowledge of the times, which he
Has hid from all Eternity.

Yet Napier nam'd the very year,
When th' end of all things shou'd appear ;
And said it shou'd (so sure was he)
One thousand seven hundred, be.

Let any one say what he can,
There's neither angel, fiend, or man,
That knows the hour, the day, or year,
When God in judgement shall appear.

Let each then readily begin,
To-day, to-night, to leave his sin:
For Christ will, like a sudden guest,
Arrive, when we expect him least.

Her time, as Rachel did not know,
Until she felt the child-birth throe:
So, 'till it comes, man ne'er can say
What day shall be his dying day.

But when the labour of the dame,
However unexpected, came,
She was deliver'd of her load
Beneath an oak, upon the road.

So shall the earth, whose teeming womb
Has pregnant, now long since, become,
Bring forth her dead from under ground,
When summon'd by the trumpet's sound.

As show'rs of fire and brimstone came,
And soon set Sodom on a flame:
So shall the day, we call the last,
Arrive, when most are sleeping fast.

Since none the hour, or time can say,
Then let us watch both night and day,
And, like the prudent virgins, stand,
Each with his lamp lit in his hand.

The signs are past, which Christ of old
So very punctually foretold,
Only that some among the Jews
The holy Gospel still refuse.

Th' Apostles, and a countless train
Of Martyrs, have long since been slain,
Who for the faith their lives laid down;
As it to all the world is known.

The holy city's wholly gone,
And not a stone left on a stone,
Burn't is the temple too of God,
And all the Jews dispers'd abroad.

The Gospel, on its milk-white horse,
O'er all the world has gone its course,
There's not a land beneath the sun
To which it, some how, has not run.

False christs have here and there appear'd
Thro'out the world (as most have heard)
Who, by the first deceiver's art,
Made many from the truth depart.

Wars have already been, 'tis plain,
Betwixt the Turk and Christian train,
Nor does the talk of wars yet cease:
May God, to those he loves, give peace!

Pale famine, and a dreadful dearth,
Have almost over-run the earth,
A plague and pestilence of late
Have ravag'd almost ev'ry state.

An earth-quake, such as none e'er knew,
Diana's temple overthrew,
And many a fort and fenced town
Were by the shock then tumbled down.

The sun eclips'd withdrew its light,
The day was almost turn'd to night,
The sea leap'd o'er its lofty mound,
Whereby some thousands then were drown'd.

Lo! Antichrist long since is come,
And roars, e'en now, aloud at Rome,
And ceases not their blood to shed,
Who will not own him for their head.

True charity is grown so cold,
E'en daughters with their mothers scold,
Fathers and sons hate one another,
And brother does not love his brother.

Faith, ne'er so very low was known,
To a mere sceleton she's gone;
In places, once for saints renown'd,
There's scarce a Christian to be found.

There's not a sign but what is gone,
Besides the Jews' return alone:
Let us then still be on our guard,
And for that aweful day prepar'd!

The mighty Judge begins to move,
And means to quit the realms above,
Whence soon he'll come, with hasty tread,
To doom the living and the dead.

Already has he whet his sword,
And th' arrows in his quiver stor'd,
Already has he bent his bow,
Prepar'd into the field to go.

His potent arm is stretch'd out wide,
His angels hover on each side,
He'll, like the fi'ry deluge, come
To give the world its final doom.

Let us then think to watch, and wait
For his arrival at the gate,
And each a just account prepare,
Before he comes, with anxious care.