Watch and Pray by G. M. O'Neil

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 28, 1870

Watch and Pray.

By G. M. O'Neil

It was at that time when anguish and woe beyond imagining were the portion of our blessed Lord; when he was about to become a sacrifice for the sins of men, and all nature seemed to be wrapped in gloom; when untold dangers seemed gathering on every side around the feeble few who followed him, recognizing in him the promised Messiah, the Son of God, that, yearning over them with love and sympathy, he sought, as a sure defense in their time of sorrow and despondency, to direct their hearts in earnest prayer to his Father and their Father, the source from which all their strength must come; it was at this time he told them to watch and pray.

But the vail that hung over the future, they could not penetrate. They did not feel the importance of watchfulness. Had the vail been lifted, could they have seen the fiendish host, marshalling their legions of darkness in mad rage and fury, they must have realized it was a time to watch. It was a time of approaching trial. Already the dreadful curse of accumulated sin was rolled together in one vast mountain of crushing woe, and the Saviour was meekly bowing his head beneath it. Angels looked on with love and pity; but he alone can pass under the burden of that awful avalanche of wrath, which would shut out even the light of his Father's smile. None can, none dare, follow. But coming to his disciples, he found them asleep. How could they sleep then, while untold agony was the portion of Him whom they professed to love so much. How mild that reproof which has sounded in the hearts of believers all the way down, “What! could ye not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation.”

The future stood unveiled before the Son of God, and he saw them a few hours hence fugitives upon the mountains, sheep without a shepherd, beset by men and demons. Ah! that was no time to sleep. The keenness of anguish which entered into the soul of “the only begotten of the Father,” with our feeble minds we cannot comprehend; but as he saw the dark future, charged with its storms of darkness and blood, and saw that down through it all till the great white throne appeared, the course of his followers must lie, his spirit must have grieved that at the time when they should have been girding on the whole armor, and preparing, like good soldiers, for the conflict, they could sleep. And even in his agony, strong cries ascended up to God for them.

Earth and hell were in array against the Master. In all the wide domain, Satan's power seemed to triumph. Men and devils stand united in purpose and sympathy. Immanuel is crushed, bruised, stricken, unto death. If the Saviour be vanquished, the faith of that handful of feeble followers is crushed, and blackness of darkness forever shuts in round the destiny of man. How much was lost in that sleep. They saw not the cup of bitter anguish that the Saviour was taking from the lips of sinful man, and raising to his own lips. They heard not the strong supplication that arose to the Father for strength to

endure. It is true, they saw the angel, who, commissioned by the Father, came to impart the needed strength; but they witnessed not that grasping faith and agonizing prayer that plead with God for that strength. Oh! how much they might have learned of Jesus in those hours of anguish. What lessons of patience, meekness, faith, and resignation! Oh, the scene of Gethsemane! Great miracle of the universe! How the heart swells with admiration, love, and wonder, in view of it; and feelings which lips can never utter, must fill the soul that contemplates aright the humiliation and agony of Jesus in solitary Gethsemane.

That was no place for believers to sleep. It was a place and a time for watching and prayer. But as Jesus looked down through coming ages, he saw another time more trying, more dangerous, coming upon his church, and he saw that again their hearts would be sad and their eyelids heavy. Satan's hosts, nerved by a mighty impulse, would work with great power, knowing that their time was short. It was truly to be a time of peril to the little flock. Satan's watchful legions would stand at every post ready to bind securely the poor souls they might find asleep. It was to be a time of such danger that our ever-gracious Father has given to his people line upon line of warning and instruction. Prophets have lifted up their voices and cried aloud upon the walls of Zion, admonishing us of the dangers of that time. Waymarks have been pointed out all along the way, that there might be no room for doubts, and that it might not come upon God's people and take them unawares. Clearly, plainly, faithful ones watching the waymarks have pointed out the signs of the times, and lo! we stand in the midst of the last day perils. These things have become to us a living reality. But we, like the sleeping disciples, see not our danger. The enemy is striving to administer to us one narcotic after another to benumb every faculty of mind, until slumber shall wrap every sense; and then the great destroyer will carry his captive wheresoever he wills.

Would that we could be so thoroughly aroused as to have a clear view of our position! What though the watchmen on the towers of Zion cry aloud, and lift up their voices like a trumpet? What though the signs that betoken the time of tribulation just upon us, stand before us in thick array? Will we be warned? Will we arise in the name of the Lord, and shake off this terrible lethargy? Jesus sees his people's danger. Every heavenly power is engaged. The voice of God again warns us in prophecy; but, like the drowsy disciples, our efforts to arouse are too feeble.

Brethren shall we not arise, and with agonizing prayer, wrestle with the God of Jacob. The way will no longer be smooth. The rage of the enemy will again wax terrible. The powers of earth and hell will again conspire; but in the midst of persecutions sore and terrible, in the midst of nature's groanings, when rending rocks, and surging oceans, shall proclaim the power of God, a people will be tried, purified, and made meet for that glorious inheritance. But who will be among that number? Only those who heed the Saviour's injunction, “Watch ye therefore and pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man.” Yes, before the Son of Man; for soon “The Lord himself shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God.”

Oh! in what a time does our season of watching lie. Does mercy still linger? It seemeth but for a moment. The balance trembles. Loud, thrilling warnings sound from east to west, from pole to pole; but men will not hear. Their hearts are steeled against God's truth, and they deride his warnings. Swiftly-rushing moments in their resistless flight are bearing us on with awful speed to that solemn moment when the harvest shall be forever past, the summer forever ended, and that edict, no power can controvert, shall go forth, “He that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is holy let him be holy still.”

Brethren, is this really where we stand? And are we drowsy? Let us beware. We wonder how, in such an hour of peril, the disciples could sleep; but for us to sleep now, is more perilous. For us to sleep, is death. G. M. O'NEIL.

Walsworth Co., Wis.