A LITTLE WHILE by J. O. Beard

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Mar 12, 1902

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 28, No. 11.

A LITTLE WHILE.

By J. O. Beard

“For yet a little while, and He that shall come will come, and will not tarry.” Heb. 10: 37.

“A little while,” how sweet the words to ears Grown dull to earthly sounds. And sorrow’s tears Are dried as hope points out the coming Lord. The wayworn toiler scans anew the Word, Then gladly lifts again his load, And hastens on the road. And weary ones from lowly beds of pain Look up and smile, and ask to hear again The message sweet that promises release From present ills, and in their place gives peace.

“A little while,” and captives shall be free From dungeons dark, and chain-gangs; they shall see The glory of the Lord when, with great power, He comes to save them in their darkest hour. The cup of bitter woe, That made them tremble so, Shall never touch their lips again. Our Lord Has said it shall be given—just reward— To those who o’er them trod in haughty scorn; To them it shall be bitter on that morn.

“A little while,” and He who comes will come. He tarries now a few brief days, that some Who linger yet outside the door, may turn Before His righteous wrath ’gainst sin shall burn. His banner is unfurled, Proclaiming to the world His standard high of truth and righteousness. With nail-pierced hands outstretched, He waits to bless. A little while His mercy lingers still That all may hear, believe, be saved, who will.

“A little while,” and He who comes will come To take His people to their glorious home, Where tempests ne’er becloud the sunlit skies; Where God shall wipe all tears from weeping eyes; Where are no beds of pain, And ended is Death’s reign. Awake, my soul, awake! O, shout and sing! A little while, and thou shalt see thy King. Like Him we then shall be; the word is His That says, “For we shall see Him as He is.”

O, wondrous change to come in time so brief! I look upon this world of pain and grief, And see its sin and shame, its want and woe, Then look by faith where such things none shall know, And cry, “Lord, haste the day When sin shall pass away.” Words can not tell the blackness of Earth’s night, Nor tell the beauty of that home of light— The pen drops on th’ unwritten paper pile; But, O, thank God, it’s but “a little while.”

J. O. BEARD.