The Arrow of the Lord's Deliverance by A. W. Spaulding

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 29, 1911

The Arrow of the Lord's Deliverance

By A. W. Spaulding

A. W. SPAULDING

The casement opens wide upon a fiery west, The still air holds a portent as of conflict nigh; Athwart the red God's shining messenger is shot, To paint his emblem on the anger of the sky. Wild tumult high upon the coming tempest's crest, And weak things cowering in devoted lot! The thunders roll; the heavens lower: It is the hour! It is the appointed hour!

The arrow of the Lord's deliverance is sped! Thy prophet's hands on mine have sped thy shaft! Lord, in thy tribulation bitter tears I've shed: Now in thy vindication I have laughed!

The slender reeds from off the pavement-stone I snatch. Not once nor thrice, but with exultant joy I smite with blow on blow, till they be naught but thatch; For thus, O Lord, shalt thou thy foes destroy.

The scourging Hazaels have bared the vengeful arm; They heard thy voice, yet answered to their gods. Thou spakest peace to them; they blew the war's alarm, And scourged thy people under iron rods.

Wild was their rage of hatred, deep their subtle scorn; They held the head on high, they curled the lip: But on their night of revel cometh vengeance's morn; Before thy gates of praise their foot shall slip.

Fast speeds thy herald shaft across the evening sky, Swift sweeps thy tempest o'er the doomed land; So speeds thy promise at thy suffering children's cry, So sweepeth down thy great avenging hand.

Who read the wrathful signs upon the western sky? Who saw the aspen quiver, voiceless, and foreknew? Who heard the trumpet's blast, and thought it not for mirth? Who dallied not in quiet ere the tempest blew? My heart! my heart! I can not hold my peace! I cry: Destruction on destruction is the lot of earth! Yet — waste and void, the heavens without light — God speaketh forth salvation in his might.

Naples, N. C.