Poems by Rebekah Smith Part 18

We know the arm that's strong to save, The power that rescues from the grave.

We know that ne'er Jehovah's ear Is deafened that he cannot hear.

Taken in Satan's artful snare, Who once had power with G.o.d in prayer, Their minds and hearts by sin enslaved-- Can such go through? can such be saved?

Though we may not their case decide, The faithful all will be supplied.

They'll see "the cloud of radiant light,"

"The fount of glory" full and bright.

They see the signs fulfilling fast; And soon earth's conflict will be past: Nor do they shrink from being there; For they presume not nor despair.

They know in whom they have believed; Their Saviour victory has achieved.

Though heaven and earth to ruin go, His promise will no failure know.

No cause for doubts or darkness here, For troubled mind or slavish fear.

Trials and crosses we'll receive, If some may turn to G.o.d and live.

But those who will not heed the call, For G.o.d and Heaven to give up all, May well sink down in dark despair; For they will gain no entrance there.

For a Gathering of the Aged.

Out from life's hour gla.s.s we must see our sands have nearly run, And we with social scenes in life shall surely soon have done.

Be this improved, then, for our good; our last days be our best, And in the final gathering we be found among the blest.

On us is seen th' effect of age; we see the furrowed brow.

Time's stern realities o'ertake, and we are forced to bow.

Compared the once bright, sparkling eye, the rosy, blooming cheek, Our present looks, infirmities, and form, do volumes speak.

Though some most helpless, others bowed, on all is seen decay, There're those o'er three-score years and ten who're youthful, blithe, and gay.

Be such, then, hopeful, full of life, as may become us here.

There's much at best t' embitter life, to make it sad and drear.

We have unfading beauty here, if we have love divine, Howe'er defaced by time and age will nature's works outs.h.i.+ne; Its rays of light reflecting o'er this moral atmosphere, Will still be seen and felt for good, though we may disappear.

This present meeting then will seem a little Heaven below, Its influence, too, be spread abroad wherever we may go.

Be this the pleasing, glad result; and then in fadeless bloom, We shall in beauty be arrayed beyond the silent tomb.

Emptiness of Earth.

What though while here we soar in fame, And gain earth's most ill.u.s.trious name, Have heaps on heaps of sordid gold, No pleasures here desired, withhold.

Be mayor, emperor and king; To light and use improvements bring; For having some great place explored, Be wors.h.i.+ped, honored and adored; Your influence o'er an empire spread, And you looked up to as the head; What then? the king and hero dies; And though 'tis said the great here lies, 'T might well be asked, "False marble, where?

Nothing but sordid dust lies here."

Thus earth's career, however grand, When called before their judge to stand, If not to G.o.d and Heaven resigned, Ere to the tomb they were consigned, Will prove no covering for the head, Though banners here were for them spread.

What horror then must seize the heart, When G.o.d commands, from him depart; Though laws and statutes here they made, This sentence then must be obeyed.

Sin's dread beginning here we know, Its issue none on earth can show; But oh! the "end, the dreadful end,"

Of those who have in G.o.d no friend.

The Christian's Triumph.

Ye idols all depart, The Lord shall have my heart; I'm his by right.

On him my sins were laid; He has my ransom paid, In G.o.d's pure sight.

Through him I'll conquer too, And all my sins subdue; In him be free.

He died to have it so, And in his strength I'll go, Till him I see.

Oh! shall I see his face, And rest in his embrace Forevermore?

My soul is on the wing To glorify my King; Him I adore.

All Heaven adore him now, In adoration bow; It is his due.

For saints shall swell the song Of the angelic throng, In earth made new.

They'll see him as he is, And know that they are his; Be like him made.

In union, all the same, There'll be to his dear name, True homage paid.

Hail, that all-glorious place, When all the ransomed race, Their voices raise; And all with sweet accord, Give glory to the Lord, In ceaseless praise.

In Eden beauty dressed, Will be each heavenly guest, All blooming fair.

This inward truth we know, And there we long to go; G.o.d will be there.

A BRIEF SKETCH OF THE _Life, Last Sickness and Death_ OF ANNIE R. SMITH.

Annie Rebekah Smith, only daughter of Samuel and Rebekah Smith, was born in West Wilton, N. H., March 16, 1828. When ten years of age, she was converted and joined the Baptist church, in which connection she remained till 1844, when she embraced the doctrine of the soon coming of Christ, and withdrew from the church that she might more freely engage in the work of preparation for that event. After the pa.s.sing of the time in 1844, being thrown with others into doubt respecting our position in the prophetic calendar, she pursued her favorite occupations of studying and teaching. Commencing in 1844, as a.s.sistant in a select school kept by Miss Sarah Livermore, in Wilton, between that time and 1850 she taught, in different places, seven district schools, attending, meanwhile, a term each in Milford, Hanc.o.c.k and New Ipswich, N. H., and six terms at the Ladies' Female Seminary in Charlestown, Ma.s.s. At the latter place she fitted herself for a teacher in Oil Painting and French.

In 1850 she took a sketch of Boston and Charlestown from Prospect Hill, Somerville, three miles distant. The effort was too much for her eyes, and, for about eight months she almost entirely lost the use of them. On account of this difficulty, she was obliged to decline a proposition to teach in the seminary at Hanc.o.c.k, which made her misfortune seem almost intolerable, so great was her disappointment. The only alleviation which she found for her affliction in this time, was in becoming an agent for, and contributor to, "The Ladies' Wreath," a monthly magazine published in New York. Her contributions to this periodical, with the exception of a few pieces published in the "Odd Fellow," and some other papers, were her first efforts at public writing.

Her friends in Charlestown, thinking the salt water would prove a benefit to her eyes, invited her to spend a season with them. She went in 1851, not expecting to be gone many weeks, but did not return till November, 1852, when she was called home by the sickness and death of her father.

During her stay in Boston and vicinity she went to Portland and Nova Scotia. I requested her to go once, to please me, to sister Temple's, in Boston, to a Seventh-day Adventist meeting. Some remarkable incidents in connection with her attendance at this meeting, together with the faithful efforts of the friends of the truth, arrested her attention; and in about three weeks she committed herself upon the Sabbath and its attendant truths. The next week she sent to the "Advent Review" the piece of poetry ent.i.tled "Fear not, Little Flock," which was her first contribution to that paper. The "Review" was then published in Saratoga, N. Y., and she was immediately requested to take a position in that office. She replied that she could not, on account of the trouble with her eyes, but was told to come as she was, or to that effect. Arriving there, the directions in James 5:14, 15, were followed, and her eyes were so far strengthened in answer to prayer, that she was soon enabled to engage without restraint in the work of the office.

With strong faith and fervent zeal, she entered heartily into the work.

She rejoiced in the new-found truth. The whole current of her mind was changed, and n.o.bler aspirations took possession of her heart. From a position of exaltation and honor among men, she had now turned her eyes to an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, reserved in Heaven for the followers of Christ, and to a place at last with the redeemed before the throne. Her contributions to the "Review" while it was published in Saratoga and Rochester, N. Y., afterwards published in her volume of poems, ent.i.tled, "Home here, and Home in Heaven," show the themes upon which her mind delighted to dwell.