THE BINDING OF SATAN by George E. Price

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jul 31, 1893

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 19, No. 38.

THE BINDING OF SATAN.

By George E. Price

BY GEORGE E. PRICE.

[Rev. 20: 1-5, "Great Controversy," pp. 659, 660.]

AND has it come to this—the Lord of Light Fixed to this desolate and ruined world! Around me wheel the stars; the orb of day Seems with his wonted luster still to shine; And yet I'm pinioned here who used to be The monarch of all these my eyes behold! 'Twould seem as if God's power were supreme. My rule in heaven when lost I still retained Unfettered freedom through the realm of space, And finally usurped supreme command Of this, the home of man. I have beheld The word of God fulfilling all these years, Yet I have found delight in playing here This awful game before the saints of God, Although I knew I thus fulfilled His word. As each turn came it seemed the only thing That I could do and carry out my plans; And could I let Him see, and all the worlds, That I was baffled in the course I took? I know, of course, all has been true thus far, But does that prove that all the rest will come? How can this being cease? How can I die? Mortals have perished, crumbled into dust, Yes, and I've seen them come to life again And taken up to reign with Him on high. He says His power raised them. This I doubt. Why, here are bones of some who chose to die Rather than yield to low, debasing vice, And are these left, while others worse than they Are taken up to reign with Him above? These all will live some day. A thousand years It says. Well, yes, perhaps; but what their end? Has ever yet an angel suffered death? And do they not come forth much like to us? Surely, some law of being this bespeaks. . . . Ah! here's old Rome; and here are Marcus' bones, And this is Caesar. He will be the man, When all these millions rise, to lead them on Against our foes. Oh, how I wish 'twere here! I long to try the final chance of arms And stake the universe on one last fight. Yes, here's that arch that tells of Milvian Bridge And how I thus controlled the world again. Ah, 'twas a proud, grand day when I beheld The church thus leave her Lord for temporal power And follow at my bidding to put down The few who still were faithful to his law. Yes, how I flung the taunt in Gabriel's face, Yea, fling it yet! I ruled mankind at will! That scheme would always thus seduce the church! Yes, here's Bartholdi's statue in the sea Where that great earthquake hurled it from its base. Here was the last of earth's great drama played; And did I not rule here? Did not the church, In this most glorious and enlightened land, Enforce her precepts at the pain of death? Yea, I can fling the taunt to highest heaven That I have ruled the world and ruled the church, And made them all bow down and worship me! Well, that is past. Yes, but I'll bide my time, If I must die, those angels now in heaven, Who occupy the places that we held, Shall see that I'm a warrior ere I die. But 'tis a hard, hard lot. Why was I made?— But was I made at all? Who knows my birth? And what can prove I will not always be? But still, 'tis ever downward in my case. I first could fight with heaven's King alone, Then Christ was victor, when of woman born, And now an angel, miserable and weak, Confines me to this planetary void! Oh, curse the day in which sin entered heaven! Nay, why was it permitted to come in? He left us free to choose the good or ill. I did not choose to bring in all this woe; I only chose to vindicate my rights. 'Tis true that this is different from His way: And His is righteousness and mine is sin! His law is love, and leaves all nature free; My law is force, and makes all creatures bound. So it would seem; but where the sin in this? Sin is in being different from His way, The being, not the doing, is the sin. 'Twas suffered thus to be that all the worlds May know what sin is by its dire results. Away! Away! 'Tis awful thus to think, And ponder over what has brought me here. I brought myself here, and I'm lord of all. No one can drive me hence, or break my power. Lo, there's Columbia's towers in ruins! This was the last great triumph of it all. Columbia's towers the world's perfection show, And show how even this obeyed my power. The proudest decade of the proudest age! And this grand celebration was the means Through which I gathered all beneath my sway. The church once more had drunk the fatal cup That was presented first through Constantine, And once more trod Christ's precepts in the dust. Once more, and yet more truly, I beheld Myself received as lord of all mankind, When, lo, the doom blast of His coming came! 'Tis true the company preserved for this Were proof against my arts as ne'er before; But was there e'er such triumph as this showed? How proudly I can fling the taunt again, And higher yet in face of heaven's King, That I have ruled the world from first to last! But, then again, it comes up as before, That even this was foretold in His word. And will not that last scene as surely come? Ah, well, it may! What silly fools men were To throw away such offers to forgive! Would I had now such promise! Yet, no, no, It ne'er could be but by a subject will, And should this mind, that has wrought out such schemes Of craft and cunning 'gainst Omnipotence Until his victory can scarce appear, Shall this mind bow in base humility? Yet he did empty all his Godhead out, And was made man, that he might thus redeem. 'Tis passing strange, I cannot understand. And yet I once did know the perfect joy, The peace and happiness that Heaven gives. Oh! how can I escape these torturing thoughts; I ne'er have thought on this since Adam fell. No time for such amid the ceaseless round Of desperate war against the will of God. But now, what shall I do? Oh, what a scene! How paltry were all ruins of the earth, Compared with this, the ruin of it all! A world in ruins, and a race extinct! Oh, what a picture for a universe! Nay, nay, I'll join my legions and will plan, To find some occupation for my mind.