L E T T E R S by C. Monroe

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 20, 1862

L E T T E R S.

By C. Monroe

“Then they that feared the Lord, spake often one to another.”

From Bro. Monroe.

DEAR BRETHREN AND SISTERS: At an hour like this, so full of peril, so near the close, I rejoice to see you rising, or struggling to rise, in holiness and fitness, to meet our soon returning Lord. This is a good sign. When, in autumn, we see birds of passage clustering, and pluming their wings, we know what it means. It tells of winter at hand. It is a signal of their departure to a warmer region; and they are soon

gone.

Thus of the church of God. It is a "flock" of emigration. They have now reached the autumn, late autumn, of their stay here. Hence, we see them, as by a heavenly instinct, gathering, and uniting—not in person, but principle—pluming the wings of their "holiness and love;" thus signifying, "the hour of their departure at hand." They go to a more genial clime; and stay till the winter of "the indignation is over-past;" and return in the spring of "Paradise Restored," with songs, and everlasting joy upon their heads,” no more to be routed by wintry blasts, or deadly foes.

The spring is an emblem of heaven, or of that boundless spring of glory that awaits the saints. How sweet to contemplate life's dreary "winter past;" and the rain of adversity "over and gone!" Yea, the earth made new, and adorned with flowers and loveliness, before unknown. “The time of the singing of birds come"—the birds of paradise—“and the voice of the turtle," turtle-dove, “heard in the land"—emblematical of the heavenly dove, whose voice is sweet and lovely. If to hear nature's cheerful voice at the vernal hour, is so ravishing, how must we “melt and die away, at sounds of heavenly harps,”—the full-toned swell of the heavenly choir! To lose that bliss, how great the loss!

But we are near, to win or lose the prize. The Lord is coming. Upon the pivot of the moment the matter turns! The real saints must be ready, must win the prize; for, for Him, they have given all. Hence, when he appears, they are ready to exclaim, in prophetic terms, "Lo, this is our God, we have waited for him, and he will save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for him; we will be glad, and rejoice in his salvation."

And are we ready, brethren, all ready to meet our God? This is the point. Our all is here pending. We can neither be too well, nor too soon prepared. In the reverse, the danger lies. We must take leave of earth, as perhaps, we never yet have done—its fashions, follies, vices, idols, all—making a clean sweep of "all that offends"—all that would chain us here, or hinder our upward flight.

We must flee such things, as Lot fled Sodom, "flee for life, look not behind us, remember Lot's wife," who fell a lasting, melancholy monument of disobedience, and of God's displeasure;—beware, lest we fall from our own steadfastness, but grow in grace and the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. This is our duty, our felicity, our safety.

The end of all things is at hand. "Of signs, there's no mistaking. The great Messiah's near." Let us be sober, and watch unto prayer. Destruction is in the land; war is raging, "with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood!" Men are falling like stubble, swept by a mighty conflagration! Blood and carnage stain the deep, and "clothe the ground in crimson!" Headlong, by thousands, men are sent into eternity, with hands stained in each other's blood! O Lord, "gather not my soul with sinners, nor my life with bloody men."

Many, up to the present moment, are said to be fast asleep; and many more are very drowsy. Surely, brethren, this is no time to sleep; though many will sleep till waked by the last trump! O come, let us arise. How can we slumber amid such deep-toned, prophetic "voices, and thunderings, and lightnings, and earthquakes," that are summoning the nations to their last account.

C. MONROE.

Waldo, Me.