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L. C. Hutchins

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, March 17, 1868

FromReview and Herald, Vol. XXXI, No. 14

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Come in the spirit of prayer, expecting a blessing, and you will certainly receive it. Come to meet Jesus, and you will not go away, saying “he was not there.” The Lord fulfills all his appointments, let him not wait for you and you be absent. If you pray in secret before going to meeting that the Lord will manifest himself as one of your company, then you will have a blessed realization of his presence. If you speak, avoid all attempt at oratorical display; it is out of place—in fact it awakens disgust in the meeting for prayer; have in view the spiritual profit, the edification of every brother and sister present and absent, and let nothing be said for the sake of mere effect.

IS IT I?

By L. C. Hutchins

Oft amid my daily labor, does the solemn thought come home, Shall I be an overcomer, or shall I be overcome? Shall I persevere in walking in the way of truth and love? Shall I see the heavenly mansions, shall I reach the home above?
Oft the frame is worn and weary, and the mind is racked with care, And my heart is sad and dreary, when I think how few there are Who shall in the end prove faithful to the calling true and high, And I ask again the question, Is it I? oh! is it I?
Oft I wound my blessed Master, sinning here, and sinning there, In a word unfitly spoken, in the mirth I sometimes share, In a rash or hasty spirit, in an uncurbed appetite, Both the enemy find entrance, to assail me in the fight;
When the signs, so fast fulfilling, plainly tell the time of night, While the message that is sounding, points us to the morning light, Some will stop to cull earth’s pleasures, and forget the warning cry, To prepare to meet the Bridegroom—Is it I? oh! is it I?
Oh! the world is dark around me, like a wild and tangled copse, And with winning voice, the siren calleth to delusive hopes. Snares there are for heedless footsteps, planted all along the way; And in each enchanted arbor, it is death for those that stay.
There’s a lamp to light the trav’ler as he walks the weary road, And the Master’s kindly-promised help, to bear each heavy load; Yet shall some turn back and leave him; for earth’s fleeting treasures sigh, Wail at last with bitter weeping—Is it I? oh! is it I?
Oh! the promised help is waiting, only waiting for our call; Who shall stand the fiery trial, buy the pearl that costeth all? Messengers have sometimes fallen, way-worn pilgrims too may fall; For the fearful times before us shall make sternest faces pale,
If we’re wearied by the footmen, and e’en now of trials tell, Who shall stand the race with horsemen, and abide ’mid Jordan’s swell? Who shall stand amid those perils—quaking earth, and darkened sky, Ready then to meet the Master? Is it I? oh! is it I?
Listen to the rumbling earthquake. Angry nations surge and roar, While volcanoes sympathizing, belch forth now their fiery store; And the burdened earth seems rocking with premonitory throes, While around us now are flocking, myriads of spirit foes.
The prophetic word proclaimeth trials ere we’re purified; Many shall walk boldly forward, who the trial shall not hide; Often, then amid the conflict, does the wearied warrior cry, Who at last shall basely falter? “Is it I? oh! is it I?”
When, at last, the Lord descending, comes to meet his waiting band, And before his august presence, saint and sinner both shall stand, When ’mid thunders loud, the heavens, like a scroll, shall pass away, And for mount and rock to cover, shall the trembling sinner pray,
Some shall lift their heads to greet him, and with hearts forever glad, Cry, “We long have waited for thee,” never more shall they be sad. Who shall feel his blessed welcome dry the tear, and hush each sigh? Who shall then be overcomer? Is it I? oh! is it I?
L. C. HUTCHINS.
Allegan Co., Mich.