Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the wild and scorching desert,Afric’s sons of colour deep;Jesu’s love has drawn and won them,At the cross they bow and weep.Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the Indies and the GangesSteady flows the living streamTo love’s ocean, to His bosom,Calvary their wond’ring theme.Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the Steppes of Russia dreary,From Slavonia’s scatter’d lands,They are yielding soul and spiritInto Jesu’s loving hands.Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the frozen realms of midnight,Over many a weary mile,To exchange their soul’s long winterFor the summer of His smile.Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar:All to meet in plains of glory,All to sing His praises sweet:What a chorus, what a meeting,With the family complete!
Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the wild and scorching desert,Afric’s sons of colour deep;Jesu’s love has drawn and won them,At the cross they bow and weep.Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the Indies and the GangesSteady flows the living streamTo love’s ocean, to His bosom,Calvary their wond’ring theme.Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the Steppes of Russia dreary,From Slavonia’s scatter’d lands,They are yielding soul and spiritInto Jesu’s loving hands.Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the frozen realms of midnight,Over many a weary mile,To exchange their soul’s long winterFor the summer of His smile.Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar:All to meet in plains of glory,All to sing His praises sweet:What a chorus, what a meeting,With the family complete!
Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the wild and scorching desert,Afric’s sons of colour deep;Jesu’s love has drawn and won them,At the cross they bow and weep.
Coming, coming, yes, they are,
Coming, coming, from afar;
From the wild and scorching desert,
Afric’s sons of colour deep;
Jesu’s love has drawn and won them,
At the cross they bow and weep.
Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the Indies and the GangesSteady flows the living streamTo love’s ocean, to His bosom,Calvary their wond’ring theme.
Coming, coming, yes, they are,
Coming, coming, from afar;
From the Indies and the Ganges
Steady flows the living stream
To love’s ocean, to His bosom,
Calvary their wond’ring theme.
Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the Steppes of Russia dreary,From Slavonia’s scatter’d lands,They are yielding soul and spiritInto Jesu’s loving hands.
Coming, coming, yes, they are,
Coming, coming, from afar;
From the Steppes of Russia dreary,
From Slavonia’s scatter’d lands,
They are yielding soul and spirit
Into Jesu’s loving hands.
Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;From the frozen realms of midnight,Over many a weary mile,To exchange their soul’s long winterFor the summer of His smile.
Coming, coming, yes, they are,
Coming, coming, from afar;
From the frozen realms of midnight,
Over many a weary mile,
To exchange their soul’s long winter
For the summer of His smile.
Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar:All to meet in plains of glory,All to sing His praises sweet:What a chorus, what a meeting,With the family complete!
Coming, coming, yes, they are,
Coming, coming, from afar:
All to meet in plains of glory,
All to sing His praises sweet:
What a chorus, what a meeting,
With the family complete!
And how that hymn was sung! It all seemed part of the music of the Great Army. No longer we thought primarily of the troops rallying to the call of the Mother Country and coming from the far ends of the world to fight in earthly warfare; our souls saw farther than this—a multitude out of every nation of all tribes and peoples and tongues, ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands, all marching under the banner of the Lord Jehovah.
I had received the answer to the questions I had been asking earlier in the day: “What had Christianity accomplished?” It had accomplishedthis:It had enlisted this mighty stream of humanity. We in that humble little chapel were merely a small handful, but we belonged tothat Great Army; we had only to march on, trusting and worshipping God.
Was it possible that I had been picturing myself one of a small force struggling for Right that was in danger of being overmastered by Might! Now, I saw ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands, on ahead of me, and could even hear the tramp and the singing of the tens of thousands that would follow on after me.
Oh, it was wonderful to feel oneself in such a mighty company!
At the close, while I was exchanging greetings with the preacher, my friend who had brought me to the chapel busied herself in finding someone who would be driving home in my direction—the meeting had been attended by people from many miles round. She discovered that a farmer and his wife were driving within a quarter of a mile of my cottage, and I was placed in their trap, carefully wrapped up in a warm Paisley shawl that had been produced from somewhere, the night being described as “a bit freshish, after all the dryth we’ve had.”
We didn’t talk much on the homeward journey. My companions were thinking some deep thoughts, I was certain, from the few remarks they let drop. But we English do not easily betray our hearts in public. Hence thefarthest the farmer’s wife got was the remark, “I’d dearly like to hear he again.” To which her husband replied, “Ay! for sure.”
They told me the meetings had been much blessed, but this one was the best of all. Oh, yes, quite different from the others. No, the usual congregation was not as large as this, only about forty; the village was small. But people had come from all over the hills this week; to-day twenty had walked in from Brownbrook—that was seven miles each way.
They went on without any connecting link to say they felt sure the English would win. There was no doubt in their minds about this, one could see; and then the reason was clear. “Our Tom’s there,” the woman explained to me, as though I of course knew “Our Tom,” and his presence at the front settled the matter.
And I thought of the many fathers and mothers who were looking away across the Straits, with just that pride and faith because “Our Tom” is helping his country.
At last we came to the little lane that turned off from the turnpike-road, and led to my cottage, and I said good-bye to my companions. The small white dog with the brown ears had heard my footsteps and had run out joyfully to meet me; he had begun to be seriously concerned as to whether he would ever get a proper mealagain! The night was certainly a bit freshish, but a glorious moon was out, and the hills were all high lights and deep shadows. I stopped a moment at my own gate, to look down at the old grey Abbey lying in the valley seven hundred feet below. Everything was still and peaceful. Only an owl called to another one in the steep woods across the river, and a couple of baby owls answered. An apple fell with a dull thud whenever the wind drifted across the orchard. It was so quiet, so restful; it was difficult to think there was lurid war-fog away beyond those hills.
Then suddenly, as I watched, I saw in the distance a procession of swinging, twinkling lights moving along a footpath that cut through a wood and crossed a low spur of the hills.
For the moment I wondered what it was, but in an instant I knew; it was the party from Brownbrook on their homeward tramp, and their lanterns were lighting them down the rugged precipitous footpath that was lying in deep shadow.
When they reached the level road they started singing, their voices in beautiful harmony, rising up and echoing again and again against the steep hillsides.
Was I thinking of battlefields with a saddened heart again? No, the cloud had lifted from my soul; I could look for somethingbetter, something more world-wide in its effects than even this terrible war. And as I stood thinking all this, the words came up to me that they were singing, as they tramped along the silent moonlit road, at the foot of the forest-clad hills:
“Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;All to meet in plains of glory,All to sing His praises sweet:What a chorus, what a meeting,With the family complete!”
“Coming, coming, yes, they are,Coming, coming, from afar;All to meet in plains of glory,All to sing His praises sweet:What a chorus, what a meeting,With the family complete!”
“Coming, coming, yes, they are,
Coming, coming, from afar;
All to meet in plains of glory,
All to sing His praises sweet:
What a chorus, what a meeting,
With the family complete!”