Rome and Turkey in Connexion with the Second Advent

In Short

This collection of sermons serves as an earnest theological guide to the "signs of the times" as they appeared to a Victorian clergyman in 1876. By interpreting the decline of the Ottoman Empire and the waning temporal power of the Papacy through the lens of Daniel and the Book of Revelation, the author constructs a roadmap for the Second Advent. It remains a fascinating historical artifact, documenting how mid-19th-century believers scrutinized global political instability to find comfort and anticipation in the promise of a coming kingdom.

The Story

The progression of this argument begins with a deeply personal, devotional desire: the hope of reunion with the Savior. To ground this hope in history, the author looks to the "backbone" of prophecy—specifically the four kingdoms described in the book of Daniel. He posits that history has already passed through the Babylonian, Medo-Persian, and Greek empires, and that the world is currently operating within the final, long-running phase of the Roman Empire. By identifying the Papacy as the "little horn" of prophecy, the author argues that the long-predicted "consuming" of Roman power is currently underway. He points to the loss of the Pope’s temporal sovereignty and the confiscation of church property in Italy as evidence that the institution is being wasted away by the "spirit of God’s mouth" in preparation for its final destruction.

The narrative arc then pivots to the "Eastern Question," specifically the state of the Ottoman Empire. Drawing parallels to the drying of the river Euphrates in the Book of Revelation, the author posits that the "Sick Man of Europe"—as the empire was commonly called—is experiencing an internal decay that mirrors the prophetic timeline. He explains that the Ottomans are not native to their lands but were invaders, and their retreat is not merely a political failure but a spiritual signal that the "sixth vial" of judgment has been poured out.

From this, the argument warns of the "three unclean spirits"—a rise in infidelity, worldliness, and religious corruption—that will characterize the time of this decline. These forces are intended to gather the world for a final, climactic conflict. Yet, the author concludes on a note of pastoral reassurance. For the faithful, these events are not causes for fear but for "looking up." He argues that just as the budding of a tree signals summer, the decay of these specific political powers signals the proximity of the Second Advent. The book ends by distinguishing between the world, which will be caught off guard like a householder surprised by a thief, and the vigilant believer, who understands these signs and remains in a state of constant, joyful readiness for the Bridegroom’s return.

How It Unfolds

The prophetic backbone The author establishes a historical timeline by matching the four kingdoms of Daniel’s vision—Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome—to the actual progression of world empires. He suggests that because we are currently in the fourth and final kingdom, the prophetic clock is reaching its terminal hour.

The consuming of Rome The focus shifts to the Papacy, framed as a power that must be "consumed" before the end. The author provides contemporary evidence, such as the deposition of the Pope as a civil ruler and the dismantling of convents, to argue that this predicted wasting away is already a visible fact.

The drying Euphrates The argument moves to the Ottoman Empire, interpreting its bankruptcy and loss of influence as the symbolic drying up of the Euphrates. This section insists that the empire’s internal decay is a deliberate, divine signal rather than a merely geopolitical trend.

The gathering spirits The author identifies a surge in spiritual danger as the concurrent result of the sixth prophetic vial. He warns that the combination of secularism, worldliness, and doctrinal error acts to distract the faithful while the final events are set in motion.

The watchman's call The final movement reconciles the fear of a "thief in the night" with the study of these signs. It concludes that while the world remains in darkness, the informed believer can witness the "first streaks of morning" and wait with active hope.

The People

The author, a Victorian vicar, positions himself as a faithful guide who seeks to interpret the "mysterious way" of God for his parishioners. He acts as a watchful observer of the late 19th-century political landscape, viewing the Times newspaper and European statecraft as vital sources of proof for his theological claims.

The "believing reader" is the primary intended recipient of this message. This person is characterized by a heart that longs for the Savior and is willing to "lift up their head" amidst the turbulent news of the day. They are contrasted against the "fearful saint," who might be intimidated by the decline of established powers, and the "unbelieving world," which remains blind to the significance of the era. The author invites his reader to emulate the alertness of Simeon and Anna at the first coming, moving from a position of passive concern to one of prepared, expectant joy. Finally, the "Sovereign" or "Bridegroom"—Jesus Christ—is the ultimate figure, though He appears not as a character in a plot, but as the inevitable resolution toward which all history, both ancient and modern, is relentlessly trending.

In Its Own Voice

"It is impossible to imagine anything more delightful than the prospect of the promised return of our most blessed Saviour."

The opening lines express the author's primary motivation for studying these complex, often dark, political prophecies.

"The Sick Man, as the Turkish empire has been called, appears on the very point of his dissolution."

The author uses the common diplomatic shorthand of his era to describe the Ottoman Empire's state of decline, linking it to symbolic biblical warnings.

"We do not know the exact time, but we may study the predicted signs, and, having them before us, may look out for the second advent just as Simeon and Anna looked out for the first."

The author summarizes his core philosophy: that prophecy provides a watchful posture for the faithful rather than a precise calendar for the curious.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work explores the intersection of human history and divine intent. It asks whether the chaotic events of the 19th century—the bankruptcy of empires, the loss of papal territory, and the rise of new secular philosophies—are random occurrences or part of a coherent, pre-written narrative. The book argues that history is not a cycle but a trajectory, and that a close, reverent reading of ancient Scripture provides a lens through which the modern world becomes intelligible. It grapples with the anxiety of living in a time of transition, offering the reader a framework to turn feelings of uncertainty into a focused, active expectation of a future spiritual restoration.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of ideas will find this book a revealing look at how 19th-century theologians attempted to reconcile the rapid modernization of the world with traditional biblical literalism. It captures a specific, urgent "end-times" anxiety that is quite distinct from modern variants, focusing on the specific political structures of the mid-1800s. The prose is warm and pastoral, reflecting the voice of a man speaking directly to his congregation, though it does demand patience with its dense, mid-Victorian sentence structures and its reliance on the specific, often tragic, political tensions of the 1870s.

The book is best read as a historical document of belief rather than a contemporary guidebook. You will encounter the period’s rigid attitudes toward institutions like the Roman Catholic Church and the Ottoman Empire, which are expressed with the uncompromising confidence common to the era. However, the feeling of the book—the genuine, quiet yearning for a better world—is timeless. It stays with you as a reminder of the human tendency to look at the "shaking" of the world and search for a higher pattern, offering a glimpse into a time when global news was read not just for politics, but for clues to the ultimate horizon of humanity.