Born: No­vem­ber 20, 1869, New Hamp­shire.

Died: Ap­ril 4, 1947.

Buried: Me­mo­ri­al Park Ce­me­te­ry, Ok­la­ho­ma City, Ok­la­ho­ma.


Pierce, a min­is­ter, mar­ried at least twice: To Mary Ev­er­ett (be­fore 1910), and Em­ma Mae Tous­ley (1933).


He ed­it­ed Beu­lah Chris­tian and The Pen­tecos­tal Quar­ter­ly. His oth­er works inc­lude:


The Transforming Vision

When Abraham left Chaldee land,
His friends all thought him crazy;
He did not know where he would go,
His future seemed all hazy;
But he pressed on, till one glad morn
A telescope God gave him—
He saw through tears two thousand years,
The Christ whose blood would save him.

Then David, Moses, and Isaiah,
Jeremiah and Ezekiel,
Elijah and Elisha, too,
And Daniel with his Tekel,
They all were true their journey through,
And never lost the fire,
So God let them look down through time
And see the world’s Messiah.

And there was one, good Simeon,
The Holy Ghost had told him
That ere death came the Christ would come,
His longing eyes behold Him;
So when they bore, through temple door,
The Babe, oh, what elation
Did fill his breast, his eyes at last
Had seen the Lord’s salvation!

And there was John, the saintly one,
On Patmos they had shoved him,
Because, forsooth, he told the truth
About the Lord who loved him;
And Jesus there, one Lord’s day fair,
Came without invitation,
And John was blessed almost to death,
And wrote the Revelation.

And hundreds more, both rich and poor,
Lived on with none to praise them;
They welcomed death strong in the faith
That God had power to raise them;
They faltered not, though fierce and hot
The stake arose before them,
Like angels bright their face did light,
As God’s dear Son yearned o’er them.

Yea, who could tell the names that swell
The angel’s snowy pages,
Of all the throng of heroes strong
Who’ve glorified the ages;
Some in the blaze of public gaze,
And some unknown to story,
Who’ve loved the truth because forsooth
They’ve seen the Lord of glory.

And oft my life, once filled with strife,
Comes back with memory bitter,
When far from God, beneath His rod,
I sought sin’s glare and glitter;
Till in despair a vision fair
To my poor soul was given—
’Twas Christ, and He bade me go free,
And filled my heart with heaven!

Now years this joy without alloy
My cup has oft run over,
And o’er my way, from day to day,
Glad angels seem to hover.
I wonder how such love to show,
But simple is the story,
Like all the rest, so richly blessed,
I’ve seen the King of glory!

David Rand Pierce
The Heavenly Pilgrim, 1909



Help Needed

If you can help with ei­ther of these it­ems,