It was October – cold and rainy
When I got to Allegheny …
Ascending the lonely hill
I tried to ignore the chill
A canopy of autumn haze
Enveloped the yard of graves
Hundreds of markers in stone
Studded the manicured dome …
Humanity lying in tombs –
Resurrection’s waiting rooms.
Our Pastor was laid to rest
On a day like this, I guessed …
A granite pyramid doth stand
To honor that righteous man.
Daniel’s closed book he opened,
Solving mysteries therein …
To unlock Bible prophesies,
God blest His use of pen.
That saint is now forgotten,
Though of renown back then …
What would my world be like today
If he had never been?
No writer with an inkhorn,
Unheralded second advent …
No harvest sickle to wield,
Wheat and tares still together …
No call to God’s people –
Out of Babylon to come …
No Plan of the Ages Divine,
No light from Present Truth to shine.
In gross darkness I’d be groping.
For parousia I’d be hoping …
Not knowing the Kingdom is here,
My heart could be failing from fear.
Thankful I am to our Lord
Who wisely chose “that servant” …
He who wrote down the “vision” —
Made it plan for us to see
Whose timely “meat in due season” —
A spiritual smorgasbord …
Fed a New Creation
One hundred forty years and more
Blest am I to be seated
At that banquet table now …
The same precious Truths I feed on
Nourished those who’ve gone before …
The meat I eat is a foretaste …
Of the marriage feast of love …
For the glorious Bride and Bridegroom
In the heavens up above.
By Barbara Wilford