The Late Fast by Mary F. Maxson

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 29, 1866

The Late Fast.

By Mary F. Maxson

Dear Brethren and Sisters: The days of fasting and prayer were profitable ones to the church here. Nearly all met according to appointment, and many earnest prayers were offered in behalf of God's suffering cause and people. We felt to humble ourselves before God, to mourn and weep in view of our miserable, lukewarm condition, and to cry mightily to him to remove his rebuke from off his people, restore his servants to health, and lead on his truth to its final victory. We did not feel like rejoicing, but deep solemnity rested upon us, and tears "of penitential grief," and heart-felt sorrow, were freely shed. Oh, those blessed hours of prayer, "How sweet their memory still!" The dear saints never before seemed so near to us, and as we prayed, we felt that it was truly "a scene where spirits blend," and though "sundered far" from most of them, yet we knew that the golden chain of faith and love united, and made us as one before God.

Our meetings increased in interest as they progressed, and Friday afternoon we had a blessed season. Oh, we felt that it was good to be there. As the meeting was about to close, Bro. Wilcox read for our encouragement, a portion of the "Closing Report from Tuscola," and as we listened, our tears flowed afresh,—tears they were of grateful joy and love. We all wept together, and with chastened hearts, thanked God for what he was doing for us. Our hearts could but thrill with joy as we looked forward to the time when, as Bro. W. remarked while reading, "The 144,000 will be made up, God's truth triumph gloriously, and his children be saved in his blessed kingdom." Oh let us take courage. God is going to work for his people, and we shall soon be delivered from this dark, dreary world. We are going home; and, bless God, "we are almost there." We know that temptations and trial await us, but what of that?

"What though the angry waves roll high, And darkness reigns around? Let hope be bright in every eye— Our ship is homeward bound. What though no morn, nor stars appear Amid the gloom profound, We will not yield a place to fear— Our ship is homeward bound."

And as we near the shore, our dangers increase. Rocks and breakers appear on every side, and without constant watchfulness, and untiring diligence, we shall be wrecked on the shoals and quicksands which surround us. Oh, may God help us all to be diligent. To remain longer in a lukewarm state, is certain destruction. We must awake now, and arouse ourselves from this death stupor, or we shall surely fail of everlasting life. Let us with earnestness and zeal, seek holiness, meekness, and righteousness, that we may be hid in the day of the Lord's fierce anger. Probation's hours are swiftly passing away, and soon the unmixed wrath of God will be poured upon the shelterless heads of the wicked. Even now we can almost hear in the distance, the low, rumbling thunders which betoken the coming storm. And as we see it approaching, how it should fire our hearts with zeal and earnestness in the work of our Master. How fervently we should pray, how anxiously we should strive, to get our hearts all imbued with the sweet, holy, melting Spirit of our blessed Redeemer, that we may with tears and burning love, warn poor sinners to "flee the wrath to come."

I fear we do not all fully realize the awfully solemn position we occupy in the sight of God. Our hearts have been illuminated with the light of divine truth, and how shall we escape, if we neglect to impart that light to those around us "who are sitting in darkness and the shadow of death." May God quicken and aid us by his Holy Spirit, that we may work diligently, faithfully, and earnestly, for the salvation of precious souls. Do not let us excuse ourselves from earnest toil, because our position in life is lowly, and our sphere of action small. If we are truly God's children, our situation is just what he would have it to be; and let us with thankful hearts go forth "bearing precious seed," and though we may now "sow in tears," yet if faithful, we "shall reap in joy," and with glad hearts, gather many precious sheaves into the heavenly garner.

We cannot longer sleep as we have. The faithful and true Witness says we must "be zealous" in repenting of our sins, and putting them from us. We must lay all upon the altar, and be whole-hearted in the service of God. If we would obtain the "gold" that is "tried in the fire," we have got to buy it. It is going to cost something. It will cost the crucifixion of self, and the giving up of everything earthly. It will cost earnest, constant, and importunate prayer, deep agony of soul, and tears of blood, as it were. We know that fearful struggles await us. And shall we shrink from the conflict? Ah, no, but let us remember Him who drank to its dregs the cup that is to be pressed to our lips. Let us with grateful love, think of the One who trod the rough pathway before us, and has smoothed and marked out the way. Think you, weary, trembling saint, that the Saviour's path was less rugged than yours? Ah no! The sharpest thorns pierced his sacred feet, the keenest anguish was felt by his tender, loving heart; and, "the rugged road we fainting tread," is bedewed with tears and blood divine. Then let us take courage, and for the sake of Him we love, go bravely forward, breasting every wave, conquering every difficulty, overcoming every foe, until we hear the sweet voice of our Master saying, It is enough. Come home.

Yours in Christian love. MARY F. MAXSON.