Words | John Gallimore
It was said a long time ago, that there is a time for everything. Whether now is the time no one can say. Lady Time alone knows, she waits for that day.
The formerly flickering flame of the miner’s lamp, now paints the sky red with its radiance. Fire, flood, famine; no survival. These riders signal the inevitable arrival.
A voice cries out in the desert wasteland, ‘The time is now! The end is here!’ The modern Millerites assemble, the prophecy is sure. We will all soon share the Disappointment of 1844.
Is this the time? Or is there another? Of course not. There is no other chance. Yet Lady Time, looking up from her watch, in an unheard plea, stares wistfully towards a future which only she can see.