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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D.C. · Jan 8, 1914

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 91, No. 2.

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No More

By Francis Monroe Burg

FRANCIS MONROE BURG
“And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” Gen. 1:31. Alas, what a contrast to this description of man’s Eden home are the conditions which we see in every part of the earth today! Instead of the fir tree we see the thorn. The brier is found where the myrtle tree should flourish.
The floodgates were opened when our parents in Eden put forth their hands in disobedience, and the earth is now deluged with woe and wickedness. The limitations of the human vocabulary forbid any attempt at describing the conditions that have resulted from this first transgression. Crimes, the recital of which would curdle the blood; sins so revolting that they would befoul the very pen used for their portrayal; woe, misery, and want, and cries of distress that rise to heaven itself; blight, decay, pestilence, and plague, a thousand other conditions that would exhaust the human language before the half were told, characterize our earthly abiding place and these times in which the “curse hath devoured the earth.”
The wickedness that prevails in the earth is described in the Bible in the following words: “The earth also is defiled under the inhabitants thereof.” Isa. 24:5. “The press is full, the fats overflow; for their wickedness is great.” Joel 3:13. “Evil men and seducers shall wax worse and worse, deceiving, and being deceived.” 2 Tim. 3:13.
But note the following vision of the future given to the seer of Patmos: “And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away.” “Behold, I make all things new.” Rev. 21:1, 5. “Nevertheless we, according to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.” 2 Peter 3:13. This whole scene is to be changed, “and there shall be curse;” “for the former things are passed away.” Rev. 22:3; 21:4. Who does not exult in the hope that God will some day renew the face of the earth and erase the dark blot of sin from this, the only orb of his vast creation that sin has cursed? Haste that day, cries the longing soul, when, the curse forever removed, this earth will again shine in its beauty, as in the beginning when it was first given its place among the shining spheres! O, joyful prospect! O, blessed hope!
death! How the cruel enemy has stalked throughout our world, ruthlessly and heartlessly wielding his sickle, till his slain are absolutely numberless! Old and young alike have fallen victims to his cruelty. Family circles are broken, and the strongest ties known on earth are rent asunder. Wives are widowed; husbands are left to walk life’s way alone; children are orphaned; brothers, sisters, are left to grieve over the graves of the departed. How long will the tyrant perpetrate his cruel ravages and spread his desolations? Thousands and ten thousands send up the cry to heaven, How long? How long?
The writer once stood before a snow-white casket. A fluffy pillow within held the head of one of the sweetest babes that ever, by its prattle, broke the silence of its home. Following this precious treasure down the aisle of the church were the grief-stricken parents, the father in his stalwart manhood seeking to control his pent-up emotions, and supporting by his strong arm the all but fainting wife and mother. Their only child, so tenderly cherished by them, had been torn from their hearts and home. Not a ray of light relieved the enshrouding gloom save that precious ray which, through the gates ajar, beams from the land of fadeless day. A few words spoken for their relief and comfort, they and their assembled friends admonished to renew their hold on eternal things by faith, and the faded floweret was carried away and laid to rest.
After a time of loneliness in their little home, save as true life companions can comfort the heart cravings of each other, another precious babe, like a gift from above, came into their lives, bringing light like a morning sunbeam. Then another was given, and the two parent hearts were further lightened and cheered.
Alas, the heartless reaper came again into this humble home, and with two cruel strokes of his sickle, in almost immediate succession, made fatherless and motherless these tender baby boys. How fraught with danger are these years on earth! No adequate expression can be given to the sadness that is felt as the above picture from real life presents itself.
Thank God, death and destruction have heard of their doom. “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.” “Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil.” Heb. 2:14. Let every believer in him who is the “resurrection and the life” join in the joyous refrain, “There shall bedeath, neither sorrow, nor crying.”
Reader, are your eyes so dimmed with tears that the blessed realities of that good land seem hidden from your vision? If you cannot see, for your blinding, bitter tears, listen to the comforting words of this man of God who has given an undimmed view of your “home over there:”— “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying.” And Isaiah, the seer of the Old Testament, portrayed the same happy condition: “The voice of weeping shall no more be heard in her, nor the voice of crying.”
The star of hope has arisen upon us, and its rays are piercing the darkness that enwraps the human family like a pall. Pallid faces are turning toward the light; and, rising above the wailing, everywhere is heard the song of hope and rejoicing that is born of faith in the promise.
“There are lonely hearts to cherish, While the days are going by; There are weary souls who perish, While the days are going by. If a smile we can renew, As our journey we pursue,— O, the good we all may do, While the days are going by!” “There shall be . . . pain.” What a cheering assurance! Who has not felt in his frail, mortal body the aches and pains that are common to man? It would be difficult to find any one who has not more or less added to the groans of men, till the volume drowns all mirth and song, and the world everywhere seems to be one great lazar house of suffering and misery. We might head the list with any one of the pains that rack these poor bodies, and write till the reader’s heart would ache; and some of man’s suffering and pain would not be included.
A pitiful example of human suffering was the case of a man in one of our cities who was mangled in a street car collision. Before death released him from his misery, he was confined to his bed for a year with suffering that it seemed impossible to relieve. One side of his body was freezing cold, as if exposed to a blizzard; the other side was hot, as if near a roaring furnace. Day after day, till the night of death dropped its curtain down, this patient sufferer endured this agony, sustained only by his trust in God and comforted by the sympathetic ministration of his friends. This is one picture of an endless number that might be presented.
The groans and shrieks of a suffering world have reached unto heaven, and the cheering promise has come down from the lips of him who “took our infirmities and bare our sicknesses:” “Neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” Listen again to Isaiah’s comforting promise: The inhabitant shall say, “I am sick.” Such a condition as this is almost beyond our grasp. The plaintive sound reaches our ears from every direction, “I am sick.” It comes from grandfather, from grandmother, from father, mother, brother, sister, and from the sweet, lisping babe. We become at once alarmed, and, lest delay add to the suffering that raised the cry, or possibly endanger the life of our loved one, we quickly resort to every recourse within our reach, perhaps calling the most skillful physician that can be secured, to bring relief to the afflicted. Alas, how often the best that we can do proves to be a futile attempt, and father, mother, wife, or child succumbs and falls; then our hearts are rent with grief.
A father was beginning to show signs of decline. Becoming alarmed, he resorted to every available means to check the ravages of the disease, the nature of which was all uncertain. After a few months, at the advice of his friends, he sought relief in traveling and change of climate. At last, despairing of ever recovering, he returned to his home and family to await the inevitable outcome.
I was often at his bedside to comfort him, and was with him and held his hand when only an occasional word could be caught as he spoke under his breath. He was praying for his dear children,—six of them,—soon to be fatherless. A little longer, and, though still breathing, all consciousness was gone, and the loving wife and clinging children waited and watched about the deathbed, longing, O, so intensely, for one more word, one more look of recognition! A return of consciousness for just an instant, and the last smile of this dying father, as he recognized his loved ones around him, was seen. O, the outbreak of grief! O, the sinking of loving hearts as the familiar look gave place again to the death-like stare! Just a little longer, and all was over.
Almost exhausted from weeks of watching, and almost dazed by the terrible shock of the last awful hours, the family, assisted by loving friends, withdrew to recover themselves before plans for the last sad rites were given thought. Till after the casket was lowered into the grave and the broken family returned to their lonely little home, I sought to comfort them. How the wails and wringing of hands caused my very soul to cry out for that day to come when such scenes as this will be forever past.
No more sickness! No more features drawn with pain! No more emaciated frames! No more the departure of youthful bloom from those that we love. O, could our minds grasp this cheering prospect! And while we wait for the fruition of the promise, we should do all that lies within our power to tell the glad news to this sorrowing, suffering world. Such a home as the blessed Book describes was given to man in the beginning, and would have been his forever had he remained true to his Maker. But he fell, and the curse then pronounced upon him for his sin has “devoured the earth.” But he who made the earth “to be inhabited” (Isa. 45:18) has promised the restitution of all things: “And thou, O tower of the flock, the stronghold of the daughter of Zion, to thee shall it come, even the first dominion; the kingdom shall come to the daughter of Jerusalem.” Micah 4:8.
From the prophet’s pen we have the comforting and cheering words, “There shall be thence an infant of days.” In that land of fadeless day we shall never witness the heart rendings as we have seen them here, when a precious little babe, like a sunbeam in the home, is rudely snatched from its mother’s arms, and its cooing and its prattle suddenly hushed. Who ever saw a sadder and more heart-touching scene than one like this? Who has witnessed it without crying out in his very soul for the day to come when such scenes will be eternally banished? O may this promise of the prophet be like the rising of the day-star, to cheer the sad and weary pilgrims in life’s journey with the hope of coming day!
Again this seer of the Old Testament pictures the cheering prospect to encourage the inhabitants of this stricken world: There shall be “an old man that hath not filled his days.” No more infirmity, suffering, helplessness, or loneliness of old age! Thank God for this assurance! Scarcely a sadder scene presents itself here than the decrepit old man or the tottering grandmother, after years of toil and sorrow, leaning on a staff, reclining in an invalid chair, or confined to the bed, shut in by four walls, just waiting and almost longing for the release that death may bring.
I saw an aged paralytic who was confined to her chair for eleven long years, and from her lips often fell the sad and pitiful words, “Sweet rest by and by; sweet rest by and by.”
No more old age with its infirmity! What a blessed promise to the travelers in this weary way! God is surely good to men to light up their journey with these precious promises.
As the prophet says, it is here the lot of the babe to die; though he lives for a hundred years, he must fall victim to the terrible enemy. “It is appointed unto men once to die.” Heb. 9:27. “The living know that they shall die.” Eccl. 9:5. And since all men are sinners, he who may live to be a hundred years old, dies accursed. But not so in the good land to come. Over there the redeemed “shall build houses, and inhabit them; and they shall plant vineyards, and eat the fruit of them. They shall not build, and another inhabit; they shall not plant, and another eat: for as the days of a tree are the days of my people, and mine elect shall long enjoy the work of their hands.” Isa. 65:20-22.
Not the least comforting to those who have struggled through weary years hereis the promise in 2 Sam. 7:10: “Moreover I will appoint a place for my people Israel, and will plant them, that they may dwell in a place of their own, and move no more”.
A home of our own! We have been pilgrims here, with no certain habitation. We have been an afflicted and poor people, while our enemies have spread themselves like a green bay tree. Sometimes we were tempted to envy their prosperity, until we went into the sanctuary of God and saw their end. Ps. 73:17. as beforetime, shall the enemies of God’s people afflict them. He has “chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him.”
When their pilgrimage is over, they will have a home of their own, not to be robbed and spoiled by death nor oppressed by foes, and shall “long enjoy the work of their hands.”
Their enemies will be utterly destroyed, as Obadiah has said (verse 16); and the people of God shall inherit the possessions of those who so long oppressed them here. Verse 17.
No more while all the endless years Shall wing their age-enduring flight,
When fadeless day breaks o’er our world And no more come the shades of night,—
No more shall sin its ravage spread, And fill our world with countless dead;
No more the curse shall scourge the earth, As since transgression had its birth;
No more the pain of broken heart, When friend from friend is called to part;
No more “I’m sick,” and no more pain,— That cry shall not be heard again;
No more a precious infant born And rudely from its parents torn;
No more a man bowed down with years,— Years full of sorrow, toil, and tears;
No more to plant while other hands May reap the fruitage of our lands;
No more to build and leave our all To others, while we, fainting, fall;
No more to move, fore’er and aye,— At home in peace through endless day;
No more by cruel foes oppressed, But in God’s service finding rest.
Then, weary soul, bowed down with care And grief that seems too hard to bear, or
Shout this refrain forevermore: No more, praise God, no more! no more!
Los Angeles, Cal.