Rushing through the seas of time,
Open doors through which men climb,
Gaping holes prove where they’ve been,
The fruitful tree is never seen.

Dangling hopes and cherished smiles,
Refuse to emit their devilish wiles,
While children groan and old men die,
It trudges on with lingering cry.

Wisdom sags whilst knowledge grows,
Reverence worn-out the Author knows,
The Babel Tower elects its head,
Till all around looks quite dead.

Sparkling dreams are left behind,
Loving ties are hard to find,
Beneath the skin the heart is hard,
Beneath the eyes the mind is charred.

Dreary tones from useless minds,
Nonsense talk of every kind,
Sluggish hands can’t lead the way,
Ceased-up brains – no time to pray.

Death meets Hell on every street,
Admits the lost for pleasure sweet,
But as it rolls, time will tell,
Where it was that Adam fell.

Priestly wounds on every face,
Proclaims the anguish of this race,
Forgotten joys are sealed in pain,
Captive now by popish chain.

A lovely home without a light,
Reminds the prisoner of his fight,
For welcomed days his soul still longs,
Not doleful laments without a song.

One book still open with unturned page,
Broadcasts the spirit of this age,
Rebellion lusts against true peace,
And trouble now will never cease.

Broken bones seek out a tomb,
The earth cries out, “I have no room”,
Stricken mouths lift up a curse,
No food to buy, an empty purse.

Faith has gone away too soon,
She flew away to the Son at noon,
Now darkened hours adjust to years,
The gloom still thickens as judgement nears.

Spotless robes, adorned in white,
A Land of song, of joy, of light,
The works been done, the workers paid,
All crowns before the Master laid.

Thankful hearts and realised dreams,
Visions of glory, the Son-light beams,
Blood-bought tribes come to the King,
And echo the song the angels sing.

A Throne appears beneath the sun,
Life, its time, its course has run,
Now the secret of every hour,
What’s been done begins to flower.

Laughing stops, the Devil sneers,
Leaves men mopping-up their tears,
Things undone remain the same,
When unexpected judgement came.

The Book is closed, the years are done,
Pleading now is late begun,
Endless days that time can’t tell,
Spent with thirst in burning Hell.

There’s a time to live, a time to die,
There’s a time to laugh, a time to cry,
A time to make the heart to bow,
A time to pray, that time is now!

 Written by Gary J. Hall 1980