THE PROPHET by Arthur J. Lockhart

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 6, 1877

THE PROPHET.

By Arthur J. Lockhart

The mountain reared its form on high Against the azure of the sky; And far below appeared in view The sea, with waves of darker blue.

But what triumphant multitude Upon that flowery mountain stood? What acclamations, loud and long, Arose from that assembled throng?

A prophet of the Lord was there, With form erect and forehead bare; With flowing locks of silken white, Transfigured in the golden light.

Fearless he stood, without dismay, Surrounded by that strange array; And well the guilty legions knew That they were false, and he was true.

On costly altars—Baal's all— No sacrificial fire shall fall; But rocks unhewn, on grassy sod, Receive the flame, when built for God.

But lo! upon the evening air Was heard the prophet's voice in prayer: “O Lord, the fount of fire unseal, As thou art God, thyself reveal!”

That prayer, so earnest, so intense, Went up with faith's true eloquence; And winged with fire, a lightning flame, The suppliant's awful answer, came!

Oh, vainly had these men of pride The living God so long defied! On stubborn necks the sword he drew, And priest and idol perished too.

Thus when a giant wrong has grown, And evil builds itself a throne; When “Who is God,” the proud ones say, “That we should worship and obey?”

Then from his ancient seat in Heaven The word goes forth, the sign is given. “The Lord is God!” the people cry, “And right shall live, and wrong shall die.”

In every age and everywhere, The burden of the prophet's prayer, Though not for vengeful fire or sword, Shall have an answer from the Lord.

—Rev. Arthur J. Lockhart, in Zion's Herald.