| |
| (The importance of witnessing |
| to the unsaved.) |
| |
| I stood before an open grave |
| My Bible clasped tight in my hand |
| And listened to the anguished cries |
| That issued from the little band |
| Of relatives and friends who'd come |
| To bid a last, a sad farewell, |
| To one who's slipped beyond our grasp |
| To spend eternity in Hell. |
| |
| His sinner friends were standing round |
| Refusing even now to go. |
| As though they sensed the tragedy |
| Like a mighty, staggering blow. |
| The good-byes they uttered were final |
| No hope was written in their eyes |
| For even they must have realized |
| There is no hope for the sinner who dies. |
| |
| Then, from their midst a woman came |
| And through her anguished sobs I heard, |
| "Oh, God, just give him one more chance |
| To heed your precious, Holy Word. |
| I knew he wasn't saved, dear Lord, |
| And that his life was filled with sin |
| I thought that I could help him, Lord, |
| That's why I married him." |
| |
| The anguished cries subsided now |
| All eyes were turned on me |
| As the woman rose and grabbed my sleeve |
| And began to plead with me. |
| "Do something, Preacher, can't you please? |
| You know my family well |
| They warned me not to marry him. |
| Oh, tell me that he's not in Hell." |
| |
| In vain I searched for words to say; |
| My soul within me cried; |
| Why hadn't she felt this same concern |
| Before her husband died? |
| There were no words to comfort her |
| No hope for him was there now |
| As lost as the rich man who'd called Lazarus |
| To cool his fevered brow. |
| |
| I took her hand and turned her round |
| To face the others standing near |
| And told her she must witness now |
| To these whom her husband held dear. |
| For how well she knew the bitter price |
| In agony, grief, and woe |
| For those who have gone to a Christless grave |
| And we who have let them go. |
