p. 1 | THE WARNING VOICE by Uriah Smith

Publishing Committee · Rochester, N. Y. · Jul 21, 1853

THE WARNING VOICE

By Uriah Smith

-OF-

TIME AND PROPHECY.

BY. URIAH SMITH. Part II. [Continued.]

Ye from whose eye cold disappointment's mist Still shuts the light of truth; whose weary feet Still find no footing firm on which to rest, Nor to your honest, searching hearts find food, Return ye, come, and heed the light of truth, That shineth in the darkness clearly now. Ye over whom the flood of worldliness Again has rolled, and loaded, with its cares, Your spirits down, and turned your vision from The living glories of the Blessed Hope, Arise yet once again, and to the help Of God, against the mighty, lend your aid. Ye who are blindly, calmly settling down, Into a state of cold indifference, Fast loosing life, and energy, and strength, And now perform before your sovereign King A lame and lukewarm service—heed the call That bids you rouse to life and onward move. Laodiceans! hear, with listening ear, The message which to thee the Spirit brings: "These things th' Amen, the true and faithful saith: Thy works I know, that neither cold nor hot Thou art; would that thou wert; wherefore will I, In thy lukewarmness, spue thee from my mouth; For that thou art, thou sayest, increased in goods, And rich and needing nothing, knowing not, That poor, and blind, and miserable thy case, Wretched and naked is in sight of Heaven. Thee do I counsel gold to buy of me, Gold tried with fire, that yet thou mayest be rich; And raiment, that thy nakedness be hid; And to anoint thine eyes, that thou mayest see. Be zealous and repent! Lo, at the door I stand and knock; if any hear my voice, And open unto me, I will come in; And him that overcometh will I grant With me to sit upon my throne, as I Have overcome and share my Father's joy."

Ho! all ye scattered ones, who ever once Stood on the side of God and fought for truth, Into whatever lone and dreary path, The cloudy day and dark has seen you stray, Return around the standard of your King! 'Tis the last rallying-call that bids you come! The last recruiting officer that Heaven, To bid men join its army, e'er shall send, Is out upon his final mission now; Ere, then, too late, enroll your names again, To aid the glorious cause you once did love. The bright remembrances of former days, Bid ye return—thoughts of the holy joy That filled your souls while struggling for the truth In scenes gone by, bid ye return—the sun, Fast counting off the numbered days of time, Telling how swift the coming end draws near, Bids ye return—and loud the rolling earth, Trembling beneath its weary load of years, Palsied and old, like one who seeks the grave, Bids ye return—and louder still the voice Of Heaven's last messenger to sinful man, Deep in its warning tone, bids ye return, And fight the battle through and win the prize.

O that a soul should perish now, who e'er Has borne the cross and trod the heavenly road! Should almost reach the blissful land of rest, Then turn, through disappointment, from the path! Should brave the conflict 'till 'twas almost o'er, Then lay their armor by, and miss the crown! Should, with the Golden City just in view, Yea, almost on its threshold standing, turn Away from truth to error's poisonous cup.

Ho! all ye wandering ones, who ever once, Stood on the side of God and fought for truth, Who've borne the cross and trod the heavenly road, Who e'er have felt the holy love of God, Within you burn, and fed on heavenly food— Where will ye find it now? Whence will ye draw Subsistence for your hungry, starving souls? Whence will ye seek it? In a godless world? Behold it drenched in sin, alien from God, Full of all lust, iniquity and pride, Driving deliriously on to death! And hope ye then for spiritual comfort there? Whence will ye seek it? In a fallen church? Behold it dead, a withered, lifeless thing, Enveloped deep in shades of moral death! O'er which the baleful fires of that most Heaven Insulting sin, a cold formality, Sheds its sulphurous glare, and makes the gloom More hideous still! There will ye seek for food And take the husks that fain the swine would leave? Will ye protection seek, and watchful care From those vile shepherds, who the fleece secure, And starve the flock, to clothe and feed themselves? Thus saith the Lord; "unto the shepherds, woe, Of Israel, who thus their charge abuse. Ye eat the fat; yourselves ye clothe with wool; Them which are fed ye kill; ye have not healed The sick, the broken have not bound, nor yet The weak made strong; nor have ye brought again That which was driven away nor found the lost. So saith the Lord, I am against you now; And at thy hands my flock will I require."

Howl O ye shepherds! for the God of Heaven Hath raised his voice against you. Wail aloud! For soon your day of retribution comes; Day, when a strict account will be required, Of all thy stewardship, and ye must speak For all the trust committed to your charge— How ye have led the flock the way to Heaven, And taught them in the precepts of God's will, And fed them with the words of holy truth. And when at last the dark, th' avenged day, Of God's long stifled wrath shall sudden burst And wake them unawares to meet their doom— Them whom your honeyed words have lulled to sleep And cries of peace have soothed to calm repose— How shall ye answer for your duty then? How shall ye answer for the blood of souls Whom ye have blinded from the light of truth? When undeceived they find at last that ye Have smoothed with stealthy hand the way to death, And charmed them on with fatal, siren songs, Have spoken pleasing words, heedless of truth, And warned them not against the day of wrath, Which finds them, now, all unprepared and lost— How shall ye bear their looks of agony, Their piercing gaze of utter, wild despair? How shall ye bear the wail of beings lost, Lost through your faithlessness, upon the ear

Fall heavily in shrieks of burning wrath? How shall ye hear them, loud, with curses deep, Upon your heads heap up eternal loads Of unabating, everlasting wo! O faithless, guilty shepherds, great, indeed, And heavy, is the account you soon must meet; Of souls unwarned to flee the wrath to come; Of truth unsought, or yet if sought, untold; Of warning lessons God in mercy sends, In lying phrase smoothed o'er to words of peace.

Ye who would seek for spiritual food and life, To feed the soul, ye will not find it here! Whence will ye seek it? One straight path there is, One narrow path, where, seeking, ye may find; Where Truth a few firm followers leads along Towards the gates of Heaven; around whose steps The Bible, God's unerring word, is still A shining light.—Lo! here are they who keep The faith of Jesus and commands of God. All other paths distrust and lead astray; All else upon its front, conspicuous, bears The brands of error, deep; howe'sersomuch, Satan, with all his arts, may strive to shield The fatal impress from the public gaze, The blazing light of truth will pierce the veil, And all may read in no ambiguous phrase, The clear exposés of the ways of sin.— All else the seed and fruit of discord bear, And mixed confusion strange around them reigns; And from the thousand crooked winding paths, That weave their long, serpentine courses on, Through all the world's great Babel, each pursued By some charmed multitude of dreamers fond, Rushing a thousand ways—a thousand notes, Discordant rise, and unharmonious sounds Fall harshly on the ear. The traveler, who, Seeking the land of bliss, inquiry makes, What signs of promise beam upon the way, Hears but uncertain, contradictory notes, And faint responses from the darkness come. Watchman! what of the night? Alas, upon The walls of Zion stand no watchmen now, Faithful to duty; they who on the towers, The high watch-towers, have stations taken, and Should read the signs of the approaching day, Upon their faithless watch, have fallen asleep, And all who in them trust, are sleeping too; Deep is their sleep that has no consciousness; Yet as they sleep they talk—they talk of peace— Talk, as they dream, of peace and safety sure.

Traveler, inquire again; others there are, Who have proclaimed that day was drawing near, That time's dark night was wearing fast away— Who, with the lamp of prophecy, once told The traveler where in Time's career he stood— Perchance they may your wandering feet direct; Watchmen! what of the night? Voices we hear, A few faint voices from the ambient gloom;— "Where once we were, we thought indeed we knew, But 'tis a mystery now we cannot solve." Watchman! what of the night? "We do not know," The drowsy watch replies; "that once we knew The time of night, we thought; but we were then Mistaken, and the matter cannot mend." Traveler, read'st thou aught here to cheer thee on? To plant fresh courage in thy drooping heart? To quell thy rising doubts, dispel thy fears, And give thee knowledge of the coming day?

But once again inquire; around his truth God yet has watchmen true, to shield it well; To tell how wears the weary night away, And mark the tokens of the coming dawn. Them let the traveler hear, and onward press. Watchman! what of the night? "Traveler, the morn, The morning cometh! also comes the night!" The morning cometh! bright, bright, glorious morn! That ushers in a cloudless, endless day; Morning, whose holy light, shall sweep the shades Of sin and death away; and with them flee Their noisome brood that in the darkness lurk: The glorious restitution morn that brings The weary saints all home from pilgrimage, To rest in lovely bowers of peace and joy. Traveler, faint not, nor slack thine onward pace; Lo, o'er the way, tokens of that glad morn— Gleams of its bright approach—already rise. There cometh, too, a night; a night to sin, A night to sinners, deep, and dark, and dead; A moonless, starless, rayless night, that may Not hope for morn; for morn it ne'er shall see: Night when no sighs, nor penitential tears, Or prayers shall gain acceptance, and avert The threatened wrath of an insulted God:— They shall be swept both root and branch away, And dark oblivion evermore obscure Their very names and memories, and blot Their forms from out the universe of life. Traveler, heed well thy steps! around thy way A thousand ministers of Satan stand— His last and desperate effort—to obstruct Thy course; to blind, confuse, deceive, thy mind; Around thy feet a thousand snares they spread; Heed not their fables, though they clothe them fair, In high and sounding phrase of comely form. Truth seek, truth follow; that shall lead you right; That light alone, will show you where to tread; And O, beware, through all thy pilgrimage, Lest on thy hand or brow the beast shall press His fatal mark. Keep God's commandments, and The Faith of Jesus; so shall you escape The bitter vials of the final plagues, And in the coming storm a covering have; In troubles deep, a refuge sure; and God, Safe to the hills of rest will bring you soon.

Here may ye find, ye worn and weary ones, The truth of God that satisfies the soul: May come, and with the remnant share, when they Shall reap the rich reward of duty done.

[To be continued.]