Twas the night before Jesus came . . .
and all through the house,
not a creature was praying,
not one in the house.

Twas the night before Jesus came . . .
and all through the house,
not a creature was praying,
not one in the house.

Their Bibles were lain on the shelf without care
with hopes that Jesus would not come there.

The children were dressing to crawl into bed,
not once ever kneeling or bowing a head.
And mom was in her rocker with baby on her lap
was watching the Late Show while I took a nap.

When out of the east there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash!

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But angles proclaiming that Jesus was here.
With a light like the sun sending forth a bright ray
I knew in a moment this must be The Day!

The light of His face made me cover my head
It was Jesus! returning just like He had said.
And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth,
I cried when I saw Him in spite of myself.

In the book of Life 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's not here" my head hung in shame.

The people whose names had been written with love
He gathered to take to His Father above.
With those who were ready He rose out of sight;
Oh, if only I had been ready tonight.

In the words of this poem the meaning is clear;
The comming of Jesus is drawing near.
There's only one life and when comes the last call
We'll find that the Bible was true after all!