tr., John Brownlie
The Bridegroom comes! My soul, awake,
And slumber from thine eyelids shake;
Hark! in the midnight hour the cry;
Bestir, my soul, for He is nigh.
Now trim your lamp, and let its light
Illume the darkness of the night;
And with the tarrying host attend
The Bridegroom, as the Bridegroom's friend.
Hast thou no oil? O foolish soul!
Why didst thou not the hours control?
Why in the darkness slumber still,
Without the oil your lamp to fill?
Go, get your oil, -- but no, too late!
The Bridegroom's come, and closed the gate; --
|O let me knock, for He is kind,
And will not leave my soul behind.|
|O let me in, my lamp's aglow;
How could I, Lord, Thy coming know?
'Twas night, I slumbered, -- let me in:
Forgive, O Lord, forgive my sin.|
Too late! The time has gone apace;
Too late, 'tis gone, the hour of grace;
O soul of mine, awake, awake,
And slumber from thine eyelids shake.