The Premillennialist

Mrs. John W. Hedge

May the Lord have compassion on that destitute soul, Who is praying and looking for millennial dawn;

For the history of his life might have best been untold, If at Judgment he's wrong, and his one chance is gone.

If the daddy of this dream was the only one involved,

It would still be most tragic; for the soul of one man

Is beyond the world's computing and the tiniest thought evolved

Will reach out to the rim of eternity's span.

If believing a lie by the very first pair

Brought death to our bodies, how great the despair, For the souls of the thousands such a man has so fathered

Of whose destiny he seemingly not once has been bothered.

Of his followers are some who assuredly disavow

That they openly teach, lest they cause a big split;

In their conversations, though, they will allow

This insidious thing the church's vitals to hit.

If this doctrine, he says, is of private opinion,

It's impossible to see how there's harm to be done.

But he's stripping the Christ of His glory and dominion, And denying the authority of our Father's own Son.

Will it matter, my friend, when the Judgment you face, And some trembling lost soul, doomed to horror and woe, Be consigned to all hell through eternity's space

Because, YOU, a premillennialist, told him so?