Those that Love His Appearing.
By C. M. Willis
How oft we look up, as we see the day nearing,
And long for the time when His coming we'll see;
How the hearts of those thrill who love His appearing,
When he comes without sin, all His captives to free. But while in the light of His promise we're basking,
Rejoicing in hope of the mansions above,
This heart-searching question each one should be asking,
In His coming, what is there, I earnestly love? We had dear cherished forms, to the church-yard we bore them,
With anguish which none but the mourner can tell;
When our Lord comes again he says he'll restore them—
Is this why we love his appearing so well? We have breasted the waves of life's turbulent river,
We have gleaned earthly treasures to see them decay,
We have seen our hopes crumble in ruins forever,
While time marred our idols and swept them away. When hopes one by one, by the tempest are riven,
Our hearts all enshrouded by sorrow and gloom;
We long to escape to some more quiet haven;
'Tis then we cry out, "Come, Lord, quickly come!" But it is not for these we should love his appearing;
Though rough be our path way and gloomy the grave,
There is something beyond, and the thought, oh, how cheering!
Our Saviour hath died fallen sinners to save. He died to redeem, view him suffering and bleeding,
He rose in great majesty, mighty to save;
At his Father's right hand hear him now interceding,
Victorious o'er death, o'er hell, and the grave. With hearts filled with love, let us fall down before him,
Begin here the harmony never to end;
And love his appearing, because we adore him,
And long to be with him, our Saviour and Friend.
C. M. WILLIS.
Charlotte, Mich.