A VISION by F. Nordyke

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 5, 1879

A VISION.

By F. Nordyke

THERE’S a dream that I dream in my inmost soul, When the mind’s at ease and the fancy free, Of a river that branches from pole to pole, And onward its silent waters roll Down to a dark and tideless sea.

This river, O mortal, is broad and deep; On its bosom it bears neither sail nor boat, But it bears all away in that last long sleep; And we stand on the brink, and silently weep As we see them away on its cold waters float.

Into its waters, by night and day, They are mournfully launched, the young and the old; We look at them pass in their ghastly array, Slowly and solemnly floating away— Floating away o’er the waters so cold.

Then farther away into dreamland we fly, Through the air o’er this river we seem to glide. The light fadeth out, and darkness draws nigh; To the darkness upturned is each death-staring eye Of the millions who down in the cold waters ride.

Far away in the darkness we seem to see Where, with hollow plunge, these millions go From the river above, below to the sea That borders the land of futurity, Where the current dies out in eddies low.

Utter darkness here reigns; midst silence profound The Death Angel sits on his ebony throne; Here lieth the slave, awaiting his crown, And the king from the height of his glory cast down; All silent they lie till the last trump hath blown.

Then changes the scene, and a beautiful land Spreads out to the view, and the darkness hath flown; There’s a glittering beach of golden sand, There’s an emerald plain, and a white-robed band, And away, far beyond, there’s a Great White Throne.

There’s a light over all from invisible suns, There are zephyrs o’erburdened with sweetest perfumes, There’s a cool, crystal river that joyfully runs, There’s a sound of sweet music that fitfully comes Through those evergreen trees with their flowery plumes.

There are shining paths through the meadows green, That lead to the gates in the golden wall Surrounding the throne my dream hath seen, Where sitteth the King his hosts between, And the joy of his presence is over all.

And I long for the time when all earth shall meet, And the waters give up their silent dead. Loved ones of the past we again shall greet With the host that shall stand at our Saviour’s feet, And drink Life and Love at the fountain head.

Lancaster, Wis. F. NORDYKE.