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EPIPHANY

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jul 28, 1874

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 44, No. 7.

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EPIPHANY

By D. T. Taylor

He came; no pomp, nor royal crown, Waited his step, or decked his brow. But grief and shame oppress him now, While friends disown, And death the injured King laid low.
He came; but few him reverence paid; The cold world's scorn, the sharpened spear, The taunt, the thorn, the sigh, the tear, Were his instead, Nor room nor home for Jesus here.
He comes again; earth's diadems And thrones of power to him belong, While round him angels chant in song, And bright as gems His saints shall join the mighty throng.
He comes, he comes; but not alone, For myriads now are in his train; And earth, and sky, and sounding main, Shall cease their groan, And shout him welcome back again.
He comes; ye dead, unseal your eyes! Loud sounds the trumpet, Come away! His chariot wheels no more delay. Mount up the skies That flash and burn along his way.
He comes; oh! hearts that wait that morn, Be clean, stand firm, watch now, and pray, And sweetly then the King will say, Beloved, well done; Enter the everlasting day.—D. T. TAYLOR, in Messiah's Herald.