Out Of The Ark - Poem by Kate Harrington
Composed for and sung by Mrs. John Wycoff, during the revival meetings at Keokuk, Iowa.
They recked not of danger, those scoffers of old,
Whom Noah was chosen to warn;
From constant transgression their hearts had grown cold,
And they answered his pleadings with scorn.
Yet daily he called, 'Oh, come, sinners, come!
Believe and prepare to embark;
Receive his kind message, and know there is room
For all who will fly to the ark.
Then come ! oh, come ! oh, come !
There's refuge alone in the ark.'
They were not persuaded ; unheeding they stood,
Unmoved by his warning and prayer,
Till the prophet passed in from the oncoming flood,
And left them to hopeless despair.
The flood-gates were open, the deluge came on,
While Heaven, offended, grew dark
They turned when too late : every foothold was gone;
And they perished in sight of the ark.
Too late, too late, too late !
They perished in sight of the ark.
O sinners ! the heralds of mercy implore ;
They cry, like the patriarch, ' Come !'
The old ship of Zion is moored on your shore;
Her captain declares there is room.
The faithful have warned, believers have prayed,
Yet you cling to the sin-deadened host;
And soon of your perishing souls will be said,
They listened, refused, and were lost,—
Were lost, were lost, were lost!
Hear, sinner, your doom—they were lost !
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