With shuddering horror; ’tis his only home, The scene of all his fame, the source of wealth, For which he toiled so wearily. All gone! He would not touch a mountain of pure gold, For ’twould be useless now! Poor, pauper Man, Without his money, chiefest aim of life, Stands homeless ’mid a Universe, to learn If God will be his Father, or his Foe! And from the blackness underneath, the swarms Of Evil ones are thronged, their hideous forms Half shown in lurid light, as here and there They flit, like sharks, expectant of their prey. Then comes the closing scene. The sentence passed, The righteous breaking forth to joyous praise, Shall thread Creation’s wondrous maze of life, And with their Leader, sweep towards yon Heaven; While down the black abyss, with cries of woe That make the darkness tremble, the condemned Are dragged, into its gloom,--and all is o’er-- Earth’s ashes float in scattered clouds through space-- To Man the grandest era of all Time, To God, completion of Salvation’s scheme! But Man deems Judgment too far off for thought, Nor will prepare for such a distant fate; Yet there is something, far more sure than aught Uncertain life can offer; its decision, too, Is just as final as the Judgment doom; And still ’tis oftenest farthest from the thought. ’Tis Death, the welcome or unwelcome guest Of every man, and yet how few prepare For its approach! They give all else a care; Wealth, honor, fame, get all their time, While certain Death’s forgotten, till disease Gives warning; then with hasty penitence, The knees are worn, the heart’s thick rubbish cleared; But oft too late; the heart will not be cleared, The stubborn knees will not consent to bend, The house is set in order, while the guest, In sable robes, stands at the throbbing door.