N. W. VINCENT by N. W. Vincent

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Nov 9, 1911

N. W. VINCENT

By N. W. Vincent

Eternity

N. W. VINCENT

O VAST eternity! How little understood! Duration’s deep, unbounded sea,— The lifetime of our God! Year after year will bring Their seasons one by one, A thousand thousand fleeting years,— The scene is just begun!

The centuries will roll Their stately numbers on, A million million centuries,— Eternity’s fresh dawn! Millenniums will come With solemn jubilee, Their vigintillion cycles run,— Morn of eternity!

Fixed periods like these All steadily will pass, As many as earth’s forest leaves And tiny blades of grass! This number, past our thoughts, Might now be multiplied By what would tell the countless drops If all the sea were dried;

Then by such number high Whose figures would o’erspread As well the orbs beyond the sky As this on which we tread! This number, so immense, Now multiply once more By what the seconds represent In cycles named before.

Eternity sublime,— Like space not understood,— Yet save this present evil time, All gladsome, bright, and good! Six thousand years of grief, Nay, seventy years of woe; The world’s probation is but brief! How short man’s life below!

Suspended on this time, Improve its minutes well! Is immortality sublime, Or “second death” in hell. O mortals, see by this The work on Calvary wrought; Eternity of love and bliss By Jesus’ blood was bought!

He calls, “Come unto me!” God longs to save and bless; Obey, and to eternity Shine in Christ’s righteousness! Eternity’s at stake,— Shall all be lost by sin? O come to Christ, come now, awake! Eternal glory win!

Caney, Kan.