There Is A Time (by Joseph Addison Alexander - 1809-1860) 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 past 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 the forehead God hath set, Indelibly a mark; Unseen my man, for man as yet, Is blind and in the dark. And yet the doomed man's path below, May bloom as Eden bloomed, He did not, does not, will not know, Or feel that he is doomed. He feels perchance that all is well, And every fear is calmed; He lives, he dies, he wakes in hell, Not only doomed but damned! O where is that mysterious line, That may by men be crossed; Beyond which, God Himself hath sworn That he who goes is lost? An answer from the skies is sent "Ye who from God depart, TODAY, O hear his voice, Repent! And harden not your heart".