My Mom's Favorite Poem

This was My Mom's favorite poem.  I still remember the first time I heard her read it.  The end still makes me cry every time.
  "How Hast Thou Spent Thy Time?"

I stood far from the Judgment Seat, head bowed in bitter shame

            Within my brain words echoed loud, for I had myself to blame.

I had seen the King, and standing there, beheld His glorious face,

            And just aside in joy supreme, my friend, a saint saved by grace.

Engulfed in grief, alone, afraid, my pleadings all in vain;

            The words re-echoed louder now and burned within my brain.

Come Now!  And so I went before the One I'd longed to see;

            Said angels standing near the throne, "The Master calleth thee".

To give account of what I'd done, one reason, I was asked

            Why I'd neglected things of God, and hurrying by them passed.

I then recalled how oft I'd said- "Oh dear, there is not time-

            I'll do it well another day."  That had been my crime.

I answered not, dumb, full of guilt, but Jesus knew and said

            "No time to do the things of God!  No time to bow they head?

No time to kneel in daily prayer or wait 'til Him you heard.

            No time to pause or meditate upon the riches of His Word?

No time to visit poor and sick, not time to smile, and give

            The stranger in your gates a word of hope, that he might live?

No time to weep with those who weep, no time to joy with one

            Whose victory over human sin was well and truly won?

But, you had time for mental tasks, and time to exercise

            Your mental powers on common things; your home to supervise.

You found the time to read and talk of things that mattered not,

            But things that mattered most to God you spurned, and just forgot!"

That was enough!  I heard no more, those words continued long;

            My talents lay, neglected, there, to Him they did belong!

But I had forgotten they were His and cast them on one side.

            And now before the throne they lay, I then my face did hide.

The saints remained there, on the right, safe in the Savior's cleft;

            But I was thrust among the ones put on the Judge's left.

Those words which burned within my brain were verdict on guilty crime

            No place, no hope to righteous crown.  "For you I have no time!"

"A dream," you say, but Oh! how real; and what relief to wake

            To find I still had unspent time ere the judgment morning break.

For me, the Savior, scourged and scorned, up Calvary's Hill did climb.

            What shall I say when He shall ask- "How Hast Thou Spent Thy Time?"