What Then?

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 the last tired clerk;

When our banks have raked in their last dollar

    And paid the last dividend;

When the Judge of the earth says, "Close for the night,"

And asks for a balance

    — WHAT THEN?

When the choir has sung its last anthem,

    And the preacher has made his last prayer;

When the people have heard their last sermon,

    And the sound has died out on the air;

When the Bible lies closed on the altar,

    And the pews are all empty of men,

When 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 displayed its last run;

When the crowds, seeking pleasure, have vanished,

    And gone out in the darkness again;

When the trumpet of ages is sounded,

And we stand up before Him

    — WHAT THEN?

When the bugle's call sinks into silence,

    And the long marching columns stand still;

When the captain repeats his last order,

    And they've captured the last fort and hill;

When the flag has been hauled from the masthead,

    And the wounded afield checked in,

And the world that rejected its Saviour

Is asked for a reason

    — WHAT THEN?