Don't Cross that Line
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There is a time, we know not when, There is a line, by us unseen, To pass that limit is to die, The conscience may be still at ease, But on that forehead God hath set He feels perchance that all is well O, where is that mysterious line An answer from the skies repeats, - Joseph Addison Alexander
A place, we know not where;
Which marks the destiny of men
To glory or despair.
Which crosses every path,
Which marks the boundary between
God's mercy and his wrath.
To die as if by stealth;
It does not dim the beaming eye,
Nor pale the glow of health.
The spirit light and gay;
And that which pleases still may please,
And care be thrust away.
Indelibly a mark;
Unseen by man, for man as yet,
Is blind and in the dark.
And every fear is calmed;
He lives, he dies, he walks in hell,
Not only doomed, but damned!
That may by men be crossed,
Beyond which God himself hath sworn,
That he who goes is lost?
"Ye who from God depart,"
Today, O hear His voice,
