Late into that dismal evening, oblivious to his dire state, they missed it.
Failing to comprehend the gravity of that night, the tears in his eyes, the pain on his face--they missed it.
Would they have slept if they knew?
Would they have slumbered if they had heard his prayers?
Would they have been surprised had they truly understood what he had said for years?
The Bridegroom was with them only for a little while. And they missed it.
What thoughts must have plagued them that second day?
What questions lingered in the dead of night?
If only...
If only...
If only they had traded the comfort behind their eyelids.
If only they had looked upon his face one last time.
Then, maybe, they wouldn't have missed it.
The hour has come, was what he said.
The hour has come. The words rang in their heads.
The hour has come, and is now past. All over in an instant.
They slumbered. And they missed it.
Oh Lord, let me not fail to see your coming
In those moments when the curtains part,
When your footprint is embedded in the sand,
Let me not overlook it.
When transforming power manifests in your church,
When daily miracles guide me from dawn to dusk,
When the hour of the Bridegroom has come as last,
Let me not missed it.