THE DAY IS AT HAND

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 21, 1876

THE DAY IS AT HAND.

Dark over earth the night of doom is sweeping; Loud wail the winds, and ocean, evermore Wild with despair and agony of weeping, Billow on billow piles upon the shore.

What is this horror every heart possessing? What the sad thought which lurks in every soul, Vague and perplex'd, which neither hand caressing Nor soothing speech may lessen or control?

Surely a warning of some awful sorrow, Such as mankind have never felt before, Surely an earnest of that dread to-morrow, When in a moment time shall be no more!

Vainly has all the wisdom of the ages Wearied and spent itself in labored schemes, Seeking, through science or in nature's pages, The consummation of its idle dreams.

Dreams of a world no longer half-benighted, Dreams of humanity sublime and pure, In one great brotherhood at length united, Happy and peaceful, and from death secure.

Ah! they were beautiful, these hopes, and glorious Worthy of minds too subtle for a creed! Man o'er himself and over all victorious— That were a triumph and a boast indeed.

Is the world better, wiser for their teachings? Is there less sin or misery or crime? Or is it still the “foolishness of preaching” Strikes to the heart as in the olden time?

Hark to the answer, oft in vain repeated: “Only One hand o'er evil can prevail— Christ with the Father in the highest seated, Listen, oh, listen to Creation's wail!”

What! hear ye not above the strife of nations The rolling of His chariot wheels afar, Borne along space in measureless pulsations, Swifter than sunbeam or the light of star?

What! hear ye not a voice, a whisper saying (’Mid signs and wonders wrought in every land), “Be sober, O my children, watchful, praying; Night is far spent—the daylight is at hand!”

Yea; there are tokens not to be mistaken, Telling of Judgment ever drawing near; Time's last sands are in his hour-glass shaken, Trembling he sees the great white throne appear.

Lord, in that last dread hour of thy returning, Grant that we all at thy right hand may be Safe, while in flames a guilty world is burning, Within the shelter of Thy love and Thee. —Episcopal Recorder.