Such, brethren, is the approaching triumph of Emmanuel. The mighty angel, having found an old copy of the everlasting gospel, which the Pope had kept locked up in his bureau for many centuries, is flying in the midst of heaven, in sight of all the world. His progress is rapid as the wings of the wind, and his sweet strong voice is publishing the glad tidings to all people. But we look for greater things than these. Following, comes another mighty angel, casting a great millstone into the sea, and saying—“Thus shall Babylon, that great city, be thrown down, and found no more at all.” Another follows, crying with a loud voice—“Babylon is fallen, is fallen!” Another descends with the key and the chain, and binds the dragon in the bottomless pit. Then appears one “like unto the Son of Man,” sitting upon a white cloud, and wearing a golden crown. He thrusts in his sharp sickle, and reaps the harvest of the earth, and gathers the wheat into his garner, the church. Again the sickle falls, and the vintage of wickedness is gathered, and cast into the wine-press of the wrath of Almighty God. Then comes the voice of a great multitude, as of many waters and mighty thunderings—the blended minstrelsy of earth and heaven—ascribing salvation and dominion and glory to him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever. The Prince of Darkness, with all his infernal hosts, and all his allies upon earth, is fearfully agitated, as he witnesses the preparation for the great decisive battle. “Why so much benevolence? Why so many societies? Why such extraordinary schemes and efforts?” Nothing disturbs them so much as the sight of Emmanuel’s troops, with their faces toward the field of Armageddon, led on by the Captain of their Salvation, on his white horse, with his vesture dipped in blood. They know that this is the Lion of the tribe of Judah; and the redness of his apparel, reminding them of their defeat when he bruised their heads on Calvary, shoots consternation and anguish through all their ranks; and the gates of hell tremble at the shaking of the iron rod in his hand, which shall dash them in pieces as a potter’s vessel. But the saints are rejoicing in his train; for they know that not one of the faithful shall perish—that not one of them shall be wounded—that each shall be more than conqueror, and all shall appear with songs of everlasting joy at the marriage supper of the Lamb. And now, my brethren, children of my heavenly Father, of every name and order, loved with the same love, redeemed with the same blood, called by the same Spirit, clothed with the same garment, fed on the same manna, engaged in the same cause—the great Missionary enterprise—as you love the Savior, as you appreciate his salvation, as you desire the introduction of his millennial kingdom, we beseech you to give us a liberal contribution!