1 The night is far spent, and the day is at hand,
There are signs in the heaven, and signs on the land,
In the wavering earth, and the drought of the sea—
But He stands and He knocks, sinner, nearer to thee.

2 His night winds but whisper until the day break
To the Bride, for in slumber her heart is awake:
He must knock at the sleep where the revelers toss
With the dint of the nails and the shock of the cross.

3 Look out at the casement, see how He appears,
Still weeping for thee all Gethsemane’s tears;
Ere they plait Him earth’s thorns, in its solitude crowned,
With the drops of the night and the dew of the ground.

4 Will you wait? Will you slumber until He is gone?
Till the beam of the timber cry out to the stone?
Till He shout at thy sepulcher, tear it apart,
And knock at the dust, Who would speak to thy heart?