There is a voice of one crying in the northern wilderness. “Come out of her, that rebellious, busy city. Come out! Come away! The hour is later and darker than you think. Noah would say the days are reminiscent of a drowned, violent pre-history. So come, have your life jostled here; come away and learn to pray to your God, trust in your God, offering the sacrifice of praise.
Here we will gather. Here, where days grow short and harsh, we will mount the offensive! Under cover of snow and night, we will storm the gates of hell. Frozen. Forgotten. Arctic ambushes from the Frost Gate.
Go on, be challenged for once! Put your faith to the test! This trying day, this fateful hour, calls for much more spiritual fitness. Exercise. Run the race. Fight in the battle for our age. Most will not come. Many do not even realize the war is already raging—the war to put the church to sleep, and then bury her.
Arise! Awake! Be roused from sleep! IT. IS. TIME. Come away. Come away! Look to the north in the days to come. Yes, you world-drenched, vagabond children, look north.”