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LABOR GLORIFIED

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Mar 28, 1882

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 59, No. 13.

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LABOR GLORIFIED.

By H. D. Hollenbeck

BY H. D. HOLLENBECK.
Behold the ancient seer, as he descends The mount whose summit gleams with awful light; Whence is the radiance that so strangely lends To his approaching form such luster bright?
Wrapped in a vast magnetic, dreadful cloud, Shut in from the awed multitude below, Deep in a rock's dark cavern he had bowed, As like the roar of some great torrent's flow
The voice of the Almighty God proclaimed His wondrous nature, while devouring beams Of strange, terrific glory flashed and flamed In fierce, resistless, and unfathomed streams.
On such dread pomp no mortal dares to gaze; Trembling, within his cell the prophet knelt, As passed before him the appalling blaze Whose power at last the solid rock shall melt.
But God's great hand, like a tremendous screen, Shielded his servant from the dreadful sight, And then withdrew, when lo! a glorious scene Filled him with holy and profound delight.
The great Creator had passed by, and now A splendor shone from his receding form, As radiance lovelier than the gem-crowned brow Brightens the gloom of the departing storm.
Or as the sun, who, when in noonday glow Pains the beholder's tender, shrinking eyes, Woos them when in the west declining low His last bright smile adorns the evening skies.
Thronging around the sacred mountain's base, A million worshipers sad glances cast Toward the dark cloud, and many an anxious face Paled at the thought of the disgraceful past.
Out of a land where their worn hands had bled From servile toil and the oppressor's rod, This mighty host in triumph had been led By the heroic messenger of God.
Though e'en the sea impeded not their way, Though from the rock for them pure water gushed, Though when at last they seemed death's helpless prey The bread of Heaven their noisy clamors hushed;
Yet their rebellious hearts perversely turned From Him who had sustained them in their flight, Until against them his fierce anger burned, And threatened to consume them from his sight.
Terror their trembling, guilty heart oppressed; But in despair's dark night their faithful guide Pleaded for them, and his petition pressed With fervent words that would not be denied.
God's promise came; each grief-chilled heart grew warm, And they beheld, till it was lost to sight, Their great commander's worn but unbent form Press through the darkness toward the dazzling height.
Their thoughts reverted to that dreadful hour When summoned forth to hear Jehovah's law, The strongest, bravest heart was made to cower, And the vast host rushed backward as they saw
The blazing mountain and the lightning's glare, Heard the deep peals of thunder crash and roar, And God's great voice, too terrible to bear, Till they entreated it should sound no more.
“Speak thou with us,” piteously implored The startled people, gathering round their guide; “That mighty voice, like an avenging sword, Pierces our souls.” “Go thou,” they wildly cried,
“Go thou, hear all his words; speak thou to us. We will obey; pity us lest we die. Who in his presence can abide, when thus Flames tower aloft, and thunders rend the sky.”
Touched by their strong appeal, his great heart yearned Toward them in sympathy and love sincere. Trembling, yet resolute, from them he turned, And all regardless of the chilling fear
That racked him, onward yet with faltering gait, Where, in thick darkness draped, the ancient rock Of the vast mountain, reeling 'neath its weight Of majesty, shuddered mid earthquake shocks.
Sustained by strength divine, he urged his way Into the depths of the appalling gloom; While the bewildered nation, in dismay, Sank from the scene as from a yawning tomb.
Oh! had they known Him from whose voice they fled, Had they but trusted in his love sublime, They might have seen and shunned the snare that led Their hearts and hands to shameful sin and crime.
For in the days that followed, while they raised Glad shouts, and bowed at a dumb idol's shrine, The faithful seer, entranced in vision, gazed O'er workmanship magnificent, divine.
Lo! in its matchless grandeur he beheld God's temple loom, through glorious billows vast; Along its arches, strange sweet music swelled; And through its lofty, dazzling portals passed,
Like lightning flashes, hurrying hosts, constrained By burning love to do his holy will. There, by the thrilling ranks of rapture chained, The wondering prophet stood, and gazed until
Roused by an angel guide's melodious voice, Sent the great temple's pattern to unfold To him who nobly had made God his choice, Rather than wide dominions, fame, and gold.
Ah! how earth's proudest piles and halls of art Dwarf, as the prophet's earnest, steadfast gaze Rests on the scene, and will not thence depart, While the celestial messenger portrays
Designs conceived in dread Jehovah's mind, Embodied in this splendid edifice. No dream of artist's fancy e'er combined Beauty and majesty approaching this. Hark! from the dazzling cloud the voice of God Reverberates throughout this vast abode.
Hear my command, and be not thou dismayed; For though earth's bosom teems with shameless guilt, Justice and mercy shall be there displayed; There shall a pattern of this place be built. Consider well what thou shalt hear and see; This dazzling temple that enchants thine eyes Is the fore-shadowing of things to be; Of unexampled love, which glorifies This noble structure, wrought by power divine, More than its gems that with such luster shine.
Copy these symbols of my sovereign grace; And on the earth a faint similitude Of that, the Almighty's holy dwelling place, Build thou. My Spirit has with skill endued Workmen whom thou shalt faithfully direct, That the completed structure may reflect The sinfulness and helplessness of man, And his redemption, through a glorious plan, Whose wondrous depths angels would fain explore; Whose Author they unceasingly adore.
Hours, days, and weeks had sped away since last After their leader's disappearing form The hosts below had gazed, now safely passed The dreaded burst of the avenging storm, That might have fallen on each guilty head, Which well they knew their gross crime merited.
But, though the avenging sword in Heaven was sheathed, As between God and the offenders vile, Lo! in the dust their mediator breathed From a grave-smitten spirit, free from guile, Prayers that Jehovah kindly deigned to hear, And changed to hope his servants' deadly fear.
But the omniscient God well knew their hearts, Obedient through fear, yet loath to seek That strength which love divine alone imparts. Though penitent at times, they were too weak Long to withstand the countless, varied wiles With which God's foe the foolish soul beguiles.
And now the days of waiting had expired, Down from the mountain's clouded brow returns The mighty chief, so long from sight retired. Still his great heart toward the erring yearns With love and pity; constant, deep, and strong. At his approach, the terror-stricken throng Fly from his presence in confused dismay; For, brighter than the mighty orb of day, Reflected glory blazes from his brow Afar upon the earth the people bow, Nor till a veil upon his features lies, Dare they toward him turn their startled eyes; And then with reverence and chastened fear, The words Jehovah bade him speak, they hear
He tells them of the work that God commands, When lo! a thousand thousand willing hands Pour at his feet rich, gorgeous offerings, A fitting tribute to the King of kings.
The sanctuary stands at last complete,— The sacred ark, the golden mercy-seat,— And, with extended wing, each cherubim, Into the future casting shadows dim; The lamps of gold, the fragrance-breathing shrine Telling the wondrous scheme of love divine,
As the great prophet slowly scans the work, And contemplates the mysteries that lurk In each design, his heart is filled with joy; Yet how like childhood's frailest, tiniest toy It all must seem to him, as he recalls The golden pavements and the gleaming walls, And feats of workmanship unparalleled, That on the mount in vision he beheld.
Yet haply, with prophetic eye he saw That multitudes, who had recoiled in dread From such a vision, so replete with awe, Would by this humble structure's light be led, Through heightening degrees of heavenly love, With hearts all undivided to adore The great and loving Author of all good, Who thus their timid hearts had understood, And led them gently onward, until they Homage supreme to him devoutly pay.
And now, as the glad nation's grateful eyes Rest on the finished work so nobly done, Lo! floods of light burst from the distant skies In brightness that exceeds the noonday sun; And glory from the throne of God Descends on the abode that human hands have made. The people raise a shout to heaven that rends The air, then on the earth with reverence laid, They worship God, who deigns to dwell with man, And with new joy take up life's tasks again.
Temples have stood in strange magnificence, Through whose vast arches multitudes have thronged, Hoping that some vain idol could dispense The truth for which their restless hearts have longed. But the bright flames from the eternal throne, That with such dread majestic glory shone On the abode in Sinai's desert pitched, Vastly eclipsed the pomp that has enriched All that the cultured mind and hand profane Has wrought to oppose Jehovah's boundless reign.
O ye that toil for naught, avert your eyes From the mirage that mocks your strivings vain; Behold in Heaven an eternal prize; Labor as God directs, and ye shall gain Treasures and fame, priceless and undefiled, When toys that untold millions have beguiled Shall have been swept, with all whom they enslave, Into destruction's everlasting grave.
God has ordained a temple to be built Of human hearts, that, though defiled by guilt, Given to him, shall be made white as snow Through grace which he has promised to bestow,— Grace to transform these selfish lives of ours, Until, with all our renovated powers, We shall delight to do his holy will, And thus creation's great design fulfill.
A free-will offering of the whole heart Bring to His feet who gave his life for you; His hand alone can fit us for a part In that great temple. There is work to do,— Work we must do with persevering care,— With ceaseless, earnest vigilance and prayer; That through the truth we may be sanctified; That we may ever prove sincere when tried; And that we may rejoice to see at last, Among the gems wrought in this temple vast, Fruits of our efforts amid earthly strife,— Souls saved from sin, thrilled with eternal life.
Soon shall the exalted Son of God appear, And the completed temple glorify; Soon shall earth's vain ones wail in deepest fear, As they behold, descending from the sky, The King of kings, coming to be revealed In all his saints, some from the tomb unsealed, Some from among the living, all arrayed In dazzling brightness that shall never fade; Whom hosts of angels in their bosoms bear In triumph through the trembling air, Rent with the shout, “O death, where is thy sting?” Up to the clouds to meet their glorious King; On to the throne 'mid thunder-peals of song; A blood-washed, glorious, countless, deathless throng, Welcomed to joys whose raptures, boundless, pure, Long as eternal ages shall endure.