--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Lydia D. Alder collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 5 number: 2 published: 1901-12 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Lydia D. Alder, "Watchman, What of the Night?," *Improvement Era* 5, no. 2 (December 1901): 102–103.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0502unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera0502unse start_page: 102 end_page: 103 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1901-12) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0502unse publication_year: 1901 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1901, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Watchman, What of the Night? 102 IMPROVEMENT ERA. tions of the power of God in healing the sick, that, with all my sanguinity, I ever hoped or imagined. And when the learned infidel has declared with sober face, time and again, that disease had obtained such an as- cendency that death could be resisted no longer, that the victim must wither beneath his potent arm, I have seen the almost lifeless clay slowly but surely resuscitated, and revive, till the pallid monster fled so far that the patient was left in the full bloom of vigorous health. But it is God that hath done it, and to him let all the praise be given. I am now compelled to close this epistle, for I must start immedi- ately on a journey of more than one hundred miles, to attend a heavy case of sickness; so God be with you all. Farewell! Jason Mack. The next intelligence we received concerning Jason, after his letter to Brother Solomon, was, that he, his wife, and oldest son, were dead, and this concludes my account of my brother Jason. WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT? BY LYDIA D. ALDER. O, watchman, what of the night? Dawns not yet the morning light? World, hear the watchman's cry; The perfect day draweth nigh. Glad tidings o'er the mountains ring, through ev'ry woody dell; King Jesus Christ, comes now to earth; 0, hear the echoes swell. All kingdoms now are his, all subjects lowly bend the knee. Lo! his star in heaven is seen; 0, night of darkness, flee! The glory of his presence, ere long, on thee shall fall, Lo, from the towers of Zion, hear the watchman's call: Arise and shine, 0, Zion, in bridal robes arrayed; Bind flow'ry chaplets on thy brow, that never more will fade. Moan and pine no longer, nor a widow banished be. For thy sorrow's night is over, and the shadows flee from thee. — WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT? 103 The glory of Christ's presence, 0, soon on thee will fall; Lo! from the towers of Zion, hear the watchman's call: 0, glorious day, millennial morn, ye saints arise and sing; Triumphant down the blazing skies, Christ other saints will bring, To reign, to rule, on earth with him a thousand years to be. And gladly serve their King, throughout eternity. O'er all the earth, the gladsome day wakes the sorrowing heart; Joy beams on faded faces, that will never more depart. The night is past, the watchmen cry, the longed-for day is come, Ye, who have waited for the Lord, will hear his voice, "well done." A glory rests on earth and sky, around the dear Lord's form. Behold they come to earth with him, 0, Church of the First Born, Ye who have wept, weep, weep no more, for now all tears have end, Behold the Rock you've built upon, —your everlasting Friend! He's victor over Death and Hell; the Tempter 's bound in chains. The temples open wide their doors, their glory never wanes. Mortals meet immortal ones, where the altar's burnished gold Reflects transcendent splendor, on those that thus behold. Comes, too, a resurrection day, the graves of saints unbarred. And forth in robes of glistening white, come they who love the Lord. But o'er the scene the curtain draw, lest we transported be. Or from our bonds and fetters, we cry, "let us be free." God give us strength to overcome, and join that happy band, The saints that have been faithful, and come from ev'ry land; 0, haste the day, dear Savior, when all shall cry as one; "We have obeyed thy mandate, behold, 'all nations' come."