THE LORD IS AT HAND,

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 21, 1861

THE LORD IS AT HAND,

O sad world and weary! in fierce agitation The wild waves of sorrow are ruffling thy breast; Thy children, dismayed at thy great tribulation, Can find on thy poor aged bosom no rest.

Athwart the racked earth, where perplexity reigneth, The shadow of Time falls portentous and long; And distant no more, lo! the "rest that remaineth" Draws near with its loveliness, sunshine and song.

O scoffer! the dawn of the great retribution, The Orient reddens! behold, and be dumb; Creation, loud groaning, awaits restitution, And sighs till the "times of refreshing" shall come.

Great God! in the day of thy dread revelation, When heaven, amazed at thy brightness, shall flee, When the light of thy smile on the heirs of salvation, Like Love's blessed summer all cloudless shall be;

When earth from thy Majesty shrinketh affrighted, And rocks to and fro, swathed in garments of flame; And they who thy pleadings of mercy have slighted, Are chased from thy presence in anguish and shame;

Among the great multitude, radiant in glory, O grant us white-robed with our loved ones to stand! Through ages unmeasured of bliss to adore thee, Who purchased our home in the heavenly land.