In daily rounds my constant course I keep,
Expected oft, but never asked to stay,
Nor know I who may laugh, or who may weep
When gazing at the tidings I convey.
So is there one who comes to rich and poor,
Expected long, unwelcome though he be;
When death’s loud knock is sounding at my door,
What are the tidings he will bring to me?
The haughty man to great possessions heir,
The selfish man, whose treasure is below,
The selfish man all full of worldly care—
To them his message is of fear and woe.
Bold Sabbath-breakers, scoffers at God’s word,
Who rush on paths which conscience must condemn,
When death’s loud knock is at their dwellings heard,
Oh! fearful tidings must he bring to them.
The contrite, mourning o’er repented sin,
The meek in heart, whose treasure is above,
The faithful, who a heavenly crown would win—
To such his message is of peace and love.
He comes to tell them that their griefs are o’er,
That Christ from sin and sorrow sets them free;
Oh! when death’s knock is sounding at my door,
Such blessed tidings may he bring to me!