The Goodly Land by Uriah Smith

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park, Washington, D. C. · Jul 5, 1915

The Goodly Land

By Uriah Smith

He Will Come for His Own

“And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels.” Mal. 3:17.

He comes not as a thief in the sense of stealing in stealthily and quietly upon the world, and purloining goods to which he has no right. But he comes to take to himself his dearest treasure, the sleeping and living saints, whom he has purchased with his own precious blood, whom he has wrested from the power of death in fair and open conflict, and for whom his coming will be no less open and triumphant, too. It will be with the brilliancy and splendor of the lightning as it shines from the east to the west. Matt. 24:27. It will be with a sound of a trumpet that shall pierce to earth’s lowest depths, and with a mighty voice that shall wake the sainted sleepers from their dusty beds. Matt. 24:31; margin; 1 Thess. 4:16. He will come upon the wicked as a thief, only because they persistently shut their eyes to the tokens of his approach, and will not believe the declarations of his Word that he is at the door.

A Glorious Climax of the Plan of Salvation

“He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.” Rev. 22:20, 21.

The Word of God is given to instruct us in reference to the plan of salvation. The second coming of Christ is to be the climax and completion of that great scheme. It is most appropriate, therefore, that the book should close with the solemn announcement, “Surely I come quickly.” Be it ours to join with fervent hearts in the response of the apostle, “Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

Thus closes the volume of inspiration,—closes with that which constitutes the best of all promises, and the substance of the Christian’s hope—the return of Christ.

Then Shall the Elect Be Gathered

and bid a long farewell to all the ills of this mortal life. How rich in all that is precious to the Christian is this promise! Wandering an exile in this evil world, separated from the law of like precious faith, he longs for the companionship of the righteous, the communion of saints. Here he shall obtain it; for all the good shall be gathered, not from one land only, but from all lands; not from one age only, but from all ages,—the great harvest of all the good, coming up in long and glorious procession, while angels shout the harvest home, and the timbrels of heaven sound forth in joyous concert; and a song before unheard, unknown, in the universe, the song of the redeemed, shall add its marvelous notes of rapture and melody to the universal jubilee. So shall the saints be gathered, to be joyful in one another’s presence forever and ever,—

“While the glory of God, like a molten sea, Bathes the immortal company.”

This gathering has nothing in it but that which is desirable. The saints cannot but sigh and pray for it. Like Job, they cry out for the presence of God. Like David, they cannot be satisfied till they awake in his likeness. In this mortal condition we “groan, being burdened; not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon.” We cannot but be upon tiptoe for “the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.” Our eyes are open for its visions, our ears are waiting to catch the sounds of the heavenly music, and our hearts are beating in anticipation of its infinite joy. Our appetites are growing sharp for the marriage supper. We cry out for the living God, and long to come into his presence. COME, LORD JESUS, COME QUICKLY. No news more welcome than the announcement that the command has gone forth from the Lord to his angels, Gather together unto me my elect from the four winds of heaven!

The Land of Rest

I see here a land which stands in a wonderful contrast to this. As the hymn says—

“O, how unlike the present world Will be the one to come!”

I see fields smiling in living green, trees majestic in their wealth of verdure, flowers dazzling with their rainbow hues, and on neither field nor tree nor flower do I see the touch of frost, or the pale hand of decay. I see no footprints of the curse, no scars of sin; no pestilence walking in darkness, nor destruction wasting at noonday. I see no forms distorted with pain, nor brows furrowed with anxiety and care. I see no mournful shafts telling where weary forms have gone down into dust and darkness. I see no painful messages passing over that land telling that a friend, a brother, a fellow-laborer, has fallen beneath the cruel stroke of a relentless foe. I see no darkened room where the tide of a precious life is ebbing slowly away. I see no bosom heaving with anguish, no badges of mourning, no funeral trains, no yearning, insatiate grave. But on the other hand, I see a glorious company who bear bright palms of victory over death and the grave.

I see every eye sparkling with the fullness of the joy that reigns within. I see on every cheek the bloom of eternal youth and everlasting health. I see every limb lithe and strong. I see the lame man leaping as an hart. I see the blind gazing with rapture on the celestial glory. I see the deaf listening enchanted to the heavenly melody. I see the dumb joining with loud voice in the anthems of praise. I see the mother clasping to her bosom the children she had lost awhile in the land of the enemy, but now recovered forever. I see long-parted friends meet in eternal reunion. I see a river so pure and clear, so charged with every element of refreshment and life, that it is called “the river of life.” I see a tree overarching all, so healing in its leaves, so vivifying in its fruits, that it is called “the tree of life.” I see a great white throne in whose effulgence shall there be no need of moon or sun to give us light. I hear a voice saying to that victorious company, “This is your rest forever, and you shall no more be acquainted with grief; for there shall be no more pain or death, and sorrow and mourning have forever fled away.” And in all the universe I then see no trace of sin, or suffering, but I hear from every world and from every creature a joyous anthem, like the sound of many waters, going up to God; and they say, “Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb forever and ever.”

The Place of Gathering

has nothing but attraction. Jesus, the fairest among ten thousand, is there. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Noah, Job, and Daniel, prophets, apostles, and martyrs, the perfection of heavenly society, are there. Visions of beauty are there; flowers that never fade, streams that never dry, produce in a variety that never ends, fruits that never decay, crowns that never dim, harps that know no discord, and all else of which a taste purified from sin and raised to the plane of immortality, can form any conception or think desirable, are there.

We Must Be There

We must bask in the forgiving smiles of God, to whom we have become reconciled, and sin no more; we must have access to that exhaustless fount of vitality, the fruit of the tree of life, and never die; we must repose under the shade of its leaves, which are for the service of the nations, and never again grow weary; we must drink from the life-giving fountain, and thirst nevermore; we must bathe in its silvery spray, and be refreshed; we must walk on its golden sands, and feel that we are no longer exiles; we must exchange the cross for the crown, and feel that the days of our humiliation are ended; we must lay down the staff and take the palm branch, and feel that the journey is done; we must put off the rent garments of our warfare for the white robes of triumph, and feel that the conflict is ended and the victory gained; we must exchange the time-worn, dusty girdle of our pilgrimage, for the glorious vesture of immortality, and feel that sin and the curse can never more pollute us. O day of rest and triumph and every good, delay not thy dawning! Let the angels at once be sent to gather the elect. Let the promise be fulfilled which bears in its train these matchless glories.