Text Illustrations
There’s a poem by Joseph Addison Alexander that I believe drives home the urgency for someone here today. It’s untitled to my knowledge and goes like this:


There is a time, we know not when,

A place, we know not where;

Which marks the destiny of men

To glory or despair.


There is a line, by us unseen,

Which crosses every path,

Which marks the boundary between

God’s mercy and his wrath.


To pass that limit is to die,

To die as if by stealth;

It does not dim the beaming eye,

Nor pale the glow of health.


The conscience may be still at ease,

The spirit light and gay;

And that which pleases still may please,

And care be thrust away.


But on that forehead God hath set

Indelibly a mark;

Unseen by man, for man as yet,

Is blind and in the dark.


He feels perchance that all is well

And every fear is calmed;

He lives, he dies, he walks in hell,

Not only doomed, but ...

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