By Wesley Beggs
O my brethren, are you ready for the coming of the Lord ?
Are you ready for the Master, with His swift-descending sword ?
Are you ready now, this moment, if the King of kings should come
From His Father’s home in glory ? Would the victory be won ?
Do you see the great precursors, as they circle all the earth,
Solemn signs and omens promised to precede a second birth ?
Do you hear the trumpet sounding now so loud, so clear, and strong,
“Leave the world and false professors; only to the Lord belong” ?
Nations wane, though proud and haughty, for their kings have had their day;
Soon the Master comes in glory, and like chaff they pass away;
They have lived in great rebellion, they have fought no fight of faith;
Now like felons from His presence they are banished in disgrace.
Loud the trumpet call is sounding, “Now prepare the King to meet;”
For He’ll sift the hearts of mortals, as the sifter sifts His wheat;
He will gather all His jewels, all that shine with heavenly light,
And will take them to His mansions, clad in linen pure and white.
Do you hear the groan of nations and the mighty cry of war ?
Do you hear the sound of earthquakes with their deep, sepulchral roar ?
Do you hear the floods that bury fruitful field and busy town,
And the roar of unchained cyclones, as they sweep their victims down ?
Do you hear the evil servant say His coming is delayed ?
Do you see the proud and haughty who in balance will be weighed ?
Do you hear the last-day scoffers loudly scoffing in their pride ?
Do you hear unholy mockers, Jesus’ coming loud deride ?
Do you see the weary traveler pressing forward to his rest,
As he walks a way-worn pilgrim in his heavenly garments dressed ?
Do you hear the dirge-like music of the holy angel band ?
Do you hear the welcome greetings of that fair, immortal land ?
Evil men and base seducers now are waxing worse and worse,
And we know it will continue till God’s judgments on them burst,
Like as in the days of Noah, when the Lord so long did wait,
When their cup was full of evil, and repentance came too late.
Yes, the latter rain is coming, now its drops begin to fall;
Now remove from feet the sandals, now be holy, one and all.
May the heavens grow brighter o’er us, as we near our happy home;
May we shine as stars forever, in that bright, immortal dome.
Zion’s King all clad with glory, soon will come to save His own;
He will take them to his mansion — to a rich and heavenly home,
Where the pearly gates will open, and the holy enter in,
“Where the tree of life is blooming,” where there is no taint of sin.
Gird up, then, your loins, my brethren; let your lights be burning bright;
For your King comes clad in glory, with all power and heavenly might.
You may clasp the hands of others who have gone long years before,
You may live with them forever on that bright, immortal shore.
The Advent Review and Sabbath Herald Jan. 16, 1894