Ten minutes in a day, a tiny grain of sand,
Yet we fail to give it to the Maker’s hand.
We dream of golden streets and an eternal throne,
But ignore the King today, leaving Him alone.
If we find no joy in speaking to Him now,
How will we stand before Him, and to His glory bow?
We stumble into service, late and unprepared,
Forgetting that the holy ground is where His grace is shared.
If a scheduled hour of worship is a burden we can’t keep,
How will we wake for Him, while the foolish virgins sleep?
When the Bridegroom comes at midnight, in a blink, an unknown hour,
Will we have the oil of readiness, or will our spirits cower?
To know the Truth is mercy, but to ignore it is a dread,
Better to have never known the path that lies ahead,
Than to taste the Heavenly gift and see the Light so plain,
Only to turn back to the dark and make His cross in vain.
For those who knew the Way but chose the path to hell,
Their regret will be a story that no tongue can ever tell.
Mar 15
Mar 15, 2026 at 2:11 PM UTC
Ten minutes in a day, a tiny grain of sand,
Yet we fail to give it to the Maker’s hand.
We dream of golden streets and an eternal throne,
But ignore the King today, leaving Him alone.
If we find no joy in speaking to Him now,
How will we stand before Him, and to His glory bow?
We stumble into service, late and unprepared,
Forgetting that the holy ground is where His grace is shared.
If a scheduled hour of worship is a burden we can’t keep,
How will we wake for Him, while the foolish virgins sleep?
When the Bridegroom comes at midnight, in a blink, an unknown hour,
Will we have the oil of readiness, or will our spirits cower?
To know the Truth is mercy, but to ignore it is a dread,
Better to have never known the path that lies ahead,
Than to taste the Heavenly gift and see the Light so plain,
Only to turn back to the dark and make His cross in vain.
For those who knew the Way but chose the path to hell,
Their regret will be a story that no tongue can ever tell.
