p. 142 | WATCH by L. C. Hutchins

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 18, 1860

WATCH

By L. C. Hutchins

What I say unto you, I say unto all, Watch. Mark xiii, 37.

When Jesus with omniscient eye, looked through the mists of years, And spake the fall of Judah’s towers, high rising tiers on tiers;

He wept as he beheld the woe poured out on Judah’s head— The curses of that holy law they broke, as oft they read;

Then asked the lowly band and few, Lord, when shall these things be? How shall we know the end draws nigh? and how thy coming see?

Jesus did neither mock nor chide their curious desire— He spake not to them mystic words; not so he answers prayer.

He spake as friend doth speak to friend, and gave the much-wished sign. He spake the sober words of truth. His words are all divine.

He told them that when Judah’s woes, God hurled in torrents down, And when upon the desolate his judgments should be shown—

The “abomination” spoken of in Daniel should be found, With impious feet outspread, upon “the holy place” around—

And when with watchful eye, you see this plainly given sign, Leave, leave the city, one and all; obey the call divine.

And as this sorely troublous time cannot be turned away, Pray that in winter ye flee not, nor on the Sabbath-day;

For sorrows long and bitter come, and troubles shall be— And persecutions followed by apostasy and sin; Again,

When Judah’s day of trouble came, the Christians knew the sign. They quickly fled—were safely kept—beheld the hand divine.

His words of solemn import reach e’en to the end of time, And to each great event he gave its own peculiar sign;

And what he said to that little band, he plainly said to all. “Watch,” watch for every given sign, watch, ’tis the Saviour’s call.

We’ve passed the stout-faced little horn, adown the stream of time. The annals read of papacy, and know his fearful crime;

The darkened sun and moon bespeak the nearness of the day, And falling stars proclaim that soon the heavens shall pass away.

The Mormon cries, “He’s with us here, come to our Zion, come.” He is not in the “desert” place, and there is not our home.

The call from “secret chambers” is, “Lo Christ, lo Christ is here.” They work the works of darkness, and to them we’ll not draw near.

The evil servant saith, “’Tis false, the Lord doth long delay His coming, and it will not come, at least, in this one day.

It matters not what hour he comes, if we do but prepare. You cannot know the day or hour; he cometh as a snare.

Meanwhile he surfeiteth himself, and joins the drunken band, And beats his fellow-servant—oh behold his rope of sand,

And many a lustful scoffer cries, “Pray, when do you go up?” And talking of “ascension robes,” forgets the sinner’s cup;

No promise of his coming sees, nor wants to see a sign; And though one spake from heaven, would scoff e’en at the voice divine.

There is a generation who the light of truth despise, Who in their own esteem are found to be the only wise.

As in the days of Solomon, these self-wise ones were found, So in these days of evil will they surely abound.

But a righteous generation God faithfully will keep, Who walk in his commandments, and wake while others sleep.

Through fires of persecution they cheerfully have gone, Content if in the end, they hear the welcome sound, Well done.

The present generation shall not wholly pass away, Till every sign shall be fulfilled in its appointed way.

Until the mourning nations see the glorious Saviour come, As lightning from the east to west to take his people home.

We herald not the day, nor hour; no, that is not our cry;

But when we see the fig-tree bloom, we know that summer’s nigh. And when we see the signs fulfilled—the nations angry roar—

We can but know the end is near—the Saviour at the door. Yes, what he said to that little band he plainly said to all,

“Watch,” watch for every given sign, watch, ’tis the Saviour’s call. For had the good man known what hour the prowling thief would come,

He’d ne’er been taken by the snare, nor lost his house and home.

L. C. HUTCHINS.

Ganges, Mich.