Classic Poem

“A GAINST my second coming,”
Christ, the Lord, hath said,
“Provide with driven thunder
The nations for my bed,
Make plain the path before me
With lightning from the skies
When unbelief shall open
And all the dead arise.

“With patience beyond wisdom
And knowledge beyond grace
I have prepared my peoples
At last to bear my face;
By many intimations
The final truth is known,
And all the lone discover
They never were alone.

“Against my second coming,”
The good Lord Jesus saith,
“Ten million young men lightly
Shall charge the gates of death,
Until, grown still with wonder,
They know how far they came
Through many habitations
Eternally the same.

“Behold, I knit the nations
With instant words of light,
And on the clouds of heaven
My wingéd feet are bright;

Beneath the seas I smite them,
And through the mountain's core
The splendor of my coursers
Escapes the granite door.

“The shining page my hill-side,
I need no special sea,
For fishing-boats are paper
And oceans, Galilee.
I walk no more among you
On brown and lovely feet,
But yet my hand is on you,
And still my lips are sweet.

“My perfect consummation
Ye cannot put aside.
I am the living Jesus
Who will not be denied;
The moment of your anguish
When all seemed dead but death,
I drew you to my bosom,” …
The good Lord Jesus saith.