Seeing Jesus

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[A poem about the course of a saint in the Last Days, who has seen the Lord, and thereby was conveyed His salvation, but who in following on to know the Lord, finds himself in the conflict of backsliding, and attempting to relate to the Lord based upon the first revelation of Christ to his soul, finds his sanctification tragically stalled, then temptation to disillusionment arises as the attempts are found to be futile, as the darkness of Babylon sets in, all this that the Lord might drive the troubled saint to the greater revelation of His glorious life, MUCH MORE than His death, and not only His life to overcome the darkness within the individual saint’s soul, but much more as it relates to the Day of the Lord (through Babylon)! This is the inevitable conflict that every saint in the Last Days will find themselves in (while yet without pastors after His heart), and thus we must labor to behold Christ as He is in His greatest glories and ministerial offices... And so the necessary casting of the soul’s gaze unto the consummation and restoration of all things, as displayed in the book of Revelation!]​

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Wounded in soul, and blackened by sin,
Weary I was, and wretched within.
What could avail to save my soul so dear?
“I died for thee, do not fear,”
Gently whispered the Voice so still,
Turning, I saw Jesus, and twas so real --
Suffering, wounded, bleeding for me,
All this He suffered upon the tree.
At once I knew my sins were planted!
A change of garments to me were granted!
I could not but sing of his salvation,
For Jesus had become my meditation!
Thus I followed His way awhile
Till all around me, sin so vile,
Did show itself to my soul so dear,
But again I heard, “Do not fear,”
And turning, the risen Lord I saw --
At once the burden seemed to fall,
My head on Christ’s bosom I laid,
“Tis my Christ”, is what I said!
And, weeping for joy, I carried on.
Years passed by, and so the dawn,
Till at length I felt the Night,
And turning I saw the flash of light,
On distant horizon from whence I came,
(Whence I first saw Christ, the same)
As the sun had set, then suddenly,
A horror of darkness, painfully,
Surrounded me all like a flood,
So that I cried, as of old, to see the Blood!
I remembered all that I had known,
The Jesus that to me was shown,
My heart was warmed by the memory,
As I mused upon the old, old Story,
But the temptations still arose,
And oft times twas sin I chose.
As time passed by, my heart would sigh,
That, as a dove, I could fly,
From the Tempest — the dreadful Storm:
Which by that time, above had formed;
My desire ungranted, my heart grew cold,
For no longer could I behold,
The clear, shining revelation,
Which to me was given at salvation!
Bleak and drear became my world,
For I could no longer see my Lord!
In this condition, for a space I wondered,
Till on a sudden, a mighty Voice behind me thundered!
Turning I saw what ne’er I dreamed,
(My life departed, or so it seemed,)
For with my eyes, I saw the Son of man,
Holding seven stars in His right hand,
Walking among seven golden candlesticks, He
Shined like the sun in all his strength,
I beheld His feet like burnished brass,
His eyes like fire, I saw them flash!
His hair was white, white like the snow --
I have seen, and thus I know --
Like many floods (His voice once still,)
Rushed upon my soul: all made me feel
That I had died, and thus I fell,
At His dear feet (though once I lay
Upon his breast), then heard Him say,
(While His right hand on me did rest),
“Do not fear, I am the first, and I am the last:
Now I live — alive forevermore --
Though I died, behold me, and be thou sure,
The keys of death and hell are mine,
Write all things you see, line by line!”
Thus I revived, and wrote the vision down,
That I might ne’er forget what I was shown;
This revelation of Jesus was to me,
The dispelling of all mysteries:
How I would walk as in the Light,
Though the day had passed, and twas the Night,
How I could fly, not on wings of dove,
From the stormy Tempest high above,
But into the fire on eagle’s wings --
A new song my soul now sings,
Of the majesty of Christ, which I have seen,

A testimony, and a gospel it’s always been
But in my ignorance, I despised the riches,
And preferred to eat from other dishes,
Of Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection,
But saw not the full scope of His redemption;
Abandoned to my own imaginations,
I graved a god in my own image:
I felt no need for His greatest glory
To be the chief end of my own story!
O the tragic end it must have been,
Had His greatest glory I not seen!

But sovereign mercy to me was given!
Now I dwell, while in this world, at the gate of heaven!
Now I feel His Kingdom, power, dominion, might,
So much more than the horrors of Night!
Now more persuaded of His power to save,
Than all the power of the grave!
Now I see the blood as ne’er before,
How for this cause the vail He tore,
That into the Holiest I may come,
Yea, without fear, but boldly run,
And behold the Son in all His splendor --
Beholding His glory will I render,
All praise in absolute surrender,
Of my body, soul, and spirit!
Now I know that I must see,

Christ’s greatest glory diligently --
This the purchase of His blood
(That precious, eternal, crimson flood,)
And I must pay Him what I owe,
Behold His glory, and by this show
The world the same, in darkest Night,
This the way, and my Lord’s right!