Yet there is room! The Lamb’s bright hall of song, With its fair glory, beckons thee along; Room, room, still room! Oh, enter, enter now! Day is declining, and the sun is low; The shadows lengthen, light makes haste to go. The bridal hall is filling for the feast: Pass in, pass in, and be the Bridegroom’s guest. It fills, it fills, that hall of jubilee! Make haste, make haste: ’tis not too full for thee. Yet there is room! Still open stands the gate, The gate is love; it is not yet too late. Pass in, pass in! That banquet is for thee: That cup of everlasting love is free. Louder and sweeter sounds the loving call: Come, lingerer, come; enter that festal hall. Ere night that gate may close, and seal thy doom: Then the last, low, long cry, “No room! no room!” No room! no room! Oh, woeful cry—“No room!”