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BEHOLD HE COMETH

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The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Aug 25, 1868

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 32, No. 10.

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BEHOLD HE COMETH.

By Blackwood

“The day cometh that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble.
“But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of Righteousness arise. *
“And ye shall tread down the wicked; for they shall be ashes under the soles of your feet, in the day that I shall do this, saith the Lord of Hosts. *
“Behold I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord.” Malachi iv.
A sound on the rampart, a sound at the gate, I hear the roused lioness howl to her mate; In the thicket at midnight they roar for the prey, That shall glut their red jaws at the rising of day; For wrath is descending on Zion's proud tower. It shall come like a cloud, It shall wrap like a shroud, Till, like Sodom, she sleeps in a sulphurous shower.
For behold the day cometh when all shall be flame; When Zion, the sackcloth shall cover thy name! When thy bark o'er the billows of death shall be driven, When thy tree, by the lightnings, from earth shall be riven; When the oven unkindled by mortals shall burn; And like chaff thou shalt glow In that furnace of woe. And dust as thou wert, thou to dust shalt return.
'Tis the darkness of darkness, the midnight of soul; No moon on the depths of that midnight shall roll! No starlight shall pierce through that life-chilling haze; No torch from the roof of the temple shall blaze. But when Israel is buried in final despair, From a height o'er all height, God of God, Light of Light, Her Sun shall arise—her great Sovereign be there.
Then the sparkles of flame from his chariot wheels hurled, Shall smite the crowned brow of the god of this world. Then, captive of ages! the trumpet shall thrill From the lips of the seraph on Zion's sweet hill. For vested in glory thy monarch shall come, And from dungeon and cave Shall ascend the pale slave; Lost Judah shall rise like the soul from the tomb!
Who rushes from Heaven? the angel of wrath; The whirlwind his wing, and the lightning his path: His hand is uplifted, he carries a sword; Lo! he heralds the march of his glorious Lord. Sun, sink in eclipse! earth, earth, shalt thou stand, When the cherubim wings Bear the King of thy kings? Woe, woe to the ocean, woe, woe to the land!
'Tis the day long foretold, 'tis the Judgment begun; Gird thy sword, thou Most Mighty! thy triumph is won. The idol shall burn in its own gory shrine; Then, daughter of anguish, thy day-spring shall shine; Proud Zion, thy veil with the olive shall bloom, And the musk-rose distil Its sweet dews on thy hill; For earth is restored, the great kingdom is come! —Blackwood.