Classic Poem

Bring forth, bring forth your silver! it shall be
But as the dust that meets the passing eye;
You shall from all your idols break, be free!
And worship Him whose ear can hear your cry;
Thou who hast hid within thy learned pelf,
Thou who hast loved another wife than Me,
Bring forth thine idols, they are born of self;
And to thy Maker bow the willing knee;
Each secret thing must now be brought to light,
Make haste, the day breaks on your hidden spoil;
Go, buy what then will give your soul delight,
That day can never hurt the wine and oil;
Make haste, the bridegroom knocks, he's at the door;
The first must now be last, the last the first before.