The Christian Warfare

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jul 25, 1871

The Christian Warfare.

“There is no discharge in the Christian warfare;” after commencing, it is ceaseless till life ends. But if there is no discharge, neither is there any drafting. Each one is a voluntary soldier, but he must be stout-hearted and brave to endure all the conflicts; for the march is a very long and toilsome one; every step of the way must be contended with the “enemy of all righteousness,” and he is a wily foe; he knows all the weak and unguarded points of our natures, and before we are hardly aware of it, he has attacked them and we have surrendered. And then the terrible struggle to regain lost ground is not known to mortals, but God marks every battle fought in this spiritual warfare, and each victory gains for our promised crowns a glittering gem, and we shall know by the sparkling crowns who has fought hardest for “an abundant entrance” into the better land. Though all we can do is duty, and after all the inheritance is the free gift of God; yet only to the willing and obedient is it given to eat of the fruit of the tree of life.

If we put on the whole armor, and keep “watchfulness and prayer” doing picket duty to warn of the advance of the enemy—fighting valiantly when we do encounter him—we shall come off victorious in the name of our great Commander; and we know that when we have dropped anchor on this side the river, and the dark voyage is ended, we shall land in that beautiful country

“Where the blinding beams of noontide, on the vision flash and glow; Shrouded midnight never cometh with her foot-falls hushed and slow; But undarkening brilliance floateth on the waves of holy air, Kindled by the smile eternal which our Father deigns to wear.

“There the verdure fadeth never, and the odors never die, There beneath unwilling blossoms, piercing thorns may never lie; Music softer and diviner than from earthly lyres has rolled, Through angelic utterance breaketh and from quivering chords of gold.

“Tears that trembled in the lashes in affliction’s keenest hours, Were as dews of summer evenings, on the thirsty lips of flowers; Gleaming crowns adorn each forehead by the thorns of sorrow torn; And they wear the whitest raiment who the heaviest cross have borne.” —Sel.