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WHEN WILL HE COME?

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 28, 1878

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 51, No. 9.

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WHEN WILL HE COME?

By The Christian

Will it be when the midday sun is gleaming And I am toiling 'neath its sultry heat? Or when at eventide I'm gently resting Among the flowers springing at my feet? Or when above my head the stars are shining Brightly resplendent in the heaven's high dome, Or in the rosy blush and dawn of morning, Or in the twilight gray? When will He come?
Shall I be old and dreary and forsaken, With white hair streaming o'er my furrowed brow, Gone from my life the music and the sunshine, Gone from my heart the love that cheers me now? Shall I be sleeping, with the green grass waving And the winds whisp'ring round my lonely tomb; Or will He take me now to greener pastures And fairer, purer joys? When will He come?
When shall I hear—to-day, to-night, to-morrow?— The sound I long to catch, His own dear voice, Sweeter than all the tones I love so fondly, Saying in accents clear, “Rejoice, rejoice”? When shall I see the hands for me once pierced, And the brow pressed for me with thorny crown, Know that for my own sake He gave His life-blood, Yet, that He calleth me? When will He come?
Shall I be worshiping among His children, And singing hymns of praise unto my God? Or 'mid the dwellings of the poor and needy, Striving to follow where His feet have trod? Or in the bustle of the crowded city, Or the sweet, social pleasures of my home? Or at his table, or in woods at even, Or on the sea's blue waste? When will He come?
Will all the fields be fragrant with spring blossoms, The song-birds warbling in the flowery glade; Or the bright summer sunbeams shining over The fruitful earth which His own hand hath made? Will autumn winds be rustling through the meadows, Or winter's snows around where'er I roam? Poor, vain attempt to hide earth's sin and ruin From His all-searching gaze? When will He come?
And still I wait and wait. My Lord delayeth, My yearning heart grows troubled oft, and sad; Yet through the darkest night His loved voice sayeth, “I'm coming soon, to make thee truly glad.” The time is short, this world is fleeting swiftly, Heaven is nearing, my eternal home; Oh for the wings of faith to reach unto it, E'en while with tears I say, “When will He come?”
—The Christian.