Twas The Night Jesus Came

Twas the night Jesus came and all through the house,

not a person was praying, not one in the house.

The Bible was left on the shelf without care,

for no one thought Jesus would come there.

The children were dressing to crawl into bed,

not once ever kneeling or bowing their head.

And Mom in the rocking chair with baby on her lap,

was watching the Late Show as I took a nap.

When out of the east there rose such a clatter,

I sprang to my feet to see what's the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

tore open the shutters and lifted the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

but Angels proclaiming that Jesus was here.

The light of His face made me cover my head,

it was Jesus returning just like He'd said.

And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth,

I cried when I saw Him in spite of myself.

In the Book of Life that in which he held in his hand,

was written the name of every saved man.

He spoke not a word as he searched for my name,

when He said "it is not here" I hung my head in shame.

The peoples whose names had been written with love,

He gathered to take to His Father above.

With those who were ready He rose without a sound,

while all the others were left standing around.

I fell to my knees but it was too late,

I waited to long and thus sealed my fate.

I stood and I cried as they rose out of sight,

Oh, if only I'd know that this was the night.

In the words of this poem the meaning is clear,

The coming of Jesus is now drawing near.

There's only one life and when comes the last call,

We'll find out that the Bible was true after all.

By Jeffrey Cummings