When the
great plants
of our cities
have turned out their last finished work,
when our merchants have sold
their last yard of silk
and dismissed their last tired clerk,
When our banks have
raked in their last dollar
and have paid the dividends,
when the judge of Earth
stays closed for the night
and asks for a balance, what then?
When the choir has sung its last anthem
an d the preacher has
made his last prayer,
when the people have heard
their last sermon,
and the sound has died on the air.
When the Bible lies closed on the altar,
an d the pews are all empty of men,
and each one stands facing his record,
and the great book is opened,
what then?
When the actors have played
their last drama,
and the mimic has made his last fun,
when the film has flashed its last picture
and the billboard has displayed
its last run.
When the crowds seeking
pleasure
have vanished
and gone out in the darkness again
and all of our lives flash before us
and we stand before him, what then?
When the bugle's call sinks into silence
an d the long marching
column stands still,
when the captain repeats his last orders
an d they've captured
the last fort and hill,
and the flag has been hauled
from the masthead,
an d the wounded a field checked in,
And a world that's rejected its
Savior is asked for a reason,
what then?