|0
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 V
 
 \
 
 ^/^^ 
 
 S H I L O H , ^^' 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BV 
 
 REGINALD TAVEY. 
 
 LONDON : 
 ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1895.
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATES THIS VOLUME 
 
 TO HIS WIFE, 
 
 TO WHOM HE IS INDEBTED 
 
 FOR THE INCENTIVE TO PRODUCE, 
 
 AND 
 
 ENCOURAGEMENT TO PUBLISH, 
 
 THE POEMS IT CONTAINS.
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 SHILOH ------ I 
 
 SALVATOR MUNDI - - - - 25 
 
 PSALM XIX. - - - - - 91 
 
 NIGHT - - - . - - 99 
 
 DEVOXIA SEPTENTRIONALIS - - - I03 
 
 ETERXITV .... - 109 
 
 A STORMY DAY- - - - - II9 
 
 LIGHT - - - ■ - - - 123 
 
 NATURE AND REVELATION - - - I27 
 
 A SUMMER NOON ... - 135 
 
 '">C 
 
 !Q'
 
 SHILOH
 
 SHILOH. 
 
 BLEST Book of God ! what power within thee 
 dwells ! 
 What living freshness colours ev'ry scene 
 In thee portrayed ! Though, in their stately march, 
 Long years by thousands have rolled slowly by. 
 Men live and breathe upon thy pictured page. 
 E'en as they live and Ijreathe around us now. 
 And in their griefs and joys, their words and deeds. 
 We also live ; we love ; we sympathize ; 
 And gather profit from the moral taught 
 By their successes gained or falls endured. 
 Thus is there giv'n us, through a skill Divine, 
 To cull rare flowers from meditation's fields. 
 To call forth pleasures from a buried past, 
 To learn life's lessons at the smallest cost. 
 
 Part L 
 
 It was a scene more strange than beautiful — 
 The landscape round was well-nigh featureless ; 
 
 3
 
 And, save that the bright cobalt of the sky 
 
 Smiled from above, Nature showed poor and bare. 
 
 Not beautiful, but singular, the scene ! 
 
 For, in the mid»t, fair gleamed the snowy bound 
 
 Of pure white curtains, fencing off a space 
 
 Of even measure from its environs ; 
 
 And o'er this hanging wall, imbrowned with age, 
 
 And worn by wand'rings 'neath the desert sun, 
 
 Within the court the Tabernacle rose. 
 
 O sight to move the dullest heart, and fill 
 With rev'rent awe the true Israel of God ! 
 This was the shrine (hallowed memorial 
 Of wonders past !) whose pattern was prescribed 
 Upon the cloud-capped peak of Sinai, 
 The sanctuary, which the pillared flame 
 Once brooded o'er, protective as a dove. 
 Here spread the pendent screen, in front of which 
 Moses, the man of God, of noble form 
 And venerable aspect, long had walked. 
 And there, within the holy place, still hung 
 The gorgeous veil, which Aaron passed within 
 But once a year, with careful rites observed. 
 Still covering the brazen altar's sides. 
 Glistened the broad plates from the censers formed 
 Of those that once presumed to contravene 
 God's choice of ministers. And, stored with care 
 Within the sacred Ark, the golden pot 
 
 4
 
 Which held the angels' food ; the sapless rod 
 Which, blushing like the morn, was bright adorned 
 With almond-blossoms ; and the carven stones, 
 (! raven with laws inflexible and hard 
 As their own substance — these were present there. 
 
 Thus, in the centre of the Promised Land, 
 While in ceiled houses Israel lay at ease, 
 Within the sliifting tent of desert times 
 The Lord their God still walked. 
 
 But now, as if 
 To make amends for the stark poverty 
 Of Nature's works at vShiloh, thickly clung 
 Around the close-veiled precincts of the court 
 Clreen booths and flow'ry bowers, where lattice-work 
 Of willows and the feath'ry tops of palms 
 Offered a cool retreat from noonday glare. 
 And down the alleys of this sylvan town 
 Flocks of rejoicing children trooped to add 
 To the imported brightness of the scene. 
 Not stately mountains, with their shoulders robed 
 In royal purple ; not the snowy crown, 
 That oft completes their kingly majesty ; 
 And not the changing splendours, light-produced, 
 That deck their skirts as with embroidery — 
 Not darkening abysses' dreamy depths, 
 Thrilling the sense poetic with their gloom — 
 Not forests in the mellow autumn seen, 
 
 5
 
 With ev'ry tree a garden of rich hues — 
 
 Not all the tints of finest-textured veil, 
 
 Swathing the shrinking form of timid dawn — 
 
 Can yield a pleasure to th' arrested eye 
 
 Equal to that aroused by vision blest 
 
 Of infantile delights. Nor can the sweets, 
 
 Sucked in the pensive hours of solitude 
 
 From contemplation of Earth's noblest parts, 
 
 Prove for continuance of joy to be 
 
 Such as man finds in presence of his kind. 
 
 O social joys ! O family delights ! 
 O all ye Ijlissful fellowships of Earth ! 
 Blest be the God of Life, who multiplies 
 The creature, that hath life, on ev'ry hand ; 
 And said to man, ' Be fruitful, multipl)', 
 Replenish and subdue the whole round world.' 
 
 In Shiloh's rustic arbours thus were seen 
 The pillared strength of the paternal form, 
 The gentler flow'ring plant, that hung thereon 
 With clasping tendril arms, and thus adorned 
 With loveliness a sterner mould severe ; 
 While round them sported free their treasured flock, 
 With cherub eyes, and angel faces sweet, 
 And hair that streamed like glory from the sun, 
 Or else, in setting dark of wavy lines, 
 With ebon framed the glowing countenance. 
 Nor yet was wanting there the grandsire old, 
 
 6
 
 With staff in hand, that trembled in his grasp, 
 As he beneath his heavy load of years. 
 
 The P'east of Tabernacles marks the time, 
 And is th' occasion of such social bliss ; 
 And constantly throughout its stated term 
 The freewill offerings of peace are slain ; 
 And festive pleasures wing their happy flight, 
 Until the time commem'rative is o'er. 
 Such was God's ordinance, that ev'ry year, 
 By dwelling under forest greenery, 
 They should together join the gladsome fact 
 Of being settled in their pleasant land 
 With memory of wand'rings long since past. 
 
 And now the last hours of the feast have come : 
 The week of Tabernacle life is o'er ; 
 The time's arrived for scatt'ring to their homes, 
 Like swallows mid their northern I^reeding-grounds. 
 
 One woman lingers at the curtained door, 
 
 With face upturned beseeching to the sky : 
 
 Anguish of mind has gathered up her brow 
 
 Into a troubled knot of tangled lines : 
 
 A constantly-recurring inward grief 
 
 Had fed for long upon her hollow cheek. 
 
 Which now shows stained with tears, and wan with 
 
 care, 
 And agonized with supplication sore. 
 
 7
 
 Before the Lord of Earth and peaceful Heav'ii, 
 
 With the intensity of strong desire 
 
 Pictured within her eager, anxious eye— 
 
 With heart surcharged and lips that speechless move, 
 
 She opens out her woe and her complaint. 
 
 Hard by the aged Priest has marked her mien, 
 And, reading not her bosom's depths as He, 
 Whose Priest he was, misjudges her, and thus 
 Breaks in on her unutterable prayer 
 With harsh, discordant words, ' Woman ! how long 
 Wilt thou be drunken ? Wilt thou nevermore 
 Put thy wine from thee ?' Startled she replies, 
 ' Ay ! nay, my Lord I deem not thy handmaid thus 
 A daughter %'ain of Belial, light and lewd : 
 Sorrow hath driven me to make my moan 
 Before my fathers' God.' Then thus the Priest, 
 ' And is it so, my daughter ? Then, in peace 
 Depart, and may a full reward be thine. 
 Through thy heart-breathed and spirit-laboured prayer, 
 From Him who slumbers not, but watchful keeps 
 His people as a shepherd does his flock.' 
 
 So Hannah went her way, no longer sad ; 
 And care no more reigned seated in her mind : 
 The balmy airs of peace began to fan. 
 And fanning soothe, her soul. At home ere long 
 A very heav'n of comfort filled her breast. 
 
 8
 
 Part II. 
 
 Time flies — no flight of winged fowl so swift. 
 Rven the eager lightning is outstripped 
 By nimble moments in their silent flight. 
 And so, before one can be well aware, 
 A father's grave responsibilities 
 Upon the husband's curving shoulders rest ; 
 And soon, again, the stages are attained, 
 Where totter slow the grandsire's failing powers. 
 
 Five hast'ning years have thus sped swiftly on ; 
 And lo I the annual feast again has come ; 
 .\.nd from far-distant tribes glad worshippers 
 (iather to pay their vows in .Shiloh's courts. 
 And greet each other with the pleasant sound 
 Of salutation blest — 'The Tord bless thee !' 
 And, ' May ( iod be with thee !' 
 
 Amid the crowd 
 Hannah, with loving hu.^band joined, appears, 
 With cheerful looks of glad contentment shown 
 Upon a tranquil face. Her brightened eye 
 Sheds down complacent looks of love upon 
 A little son, led gently by her hand. 
 Before whose infant gaze, for the first time, 
 .Such stirring scenes of animation rise. 
 A sweet and solemn earnestness o'erspreads 
 His childish countenance, for well he knows 
 
 9
 
 That now to God's pure altars he is l)rought. 
 
 His mother had with constant pleasure watched 
 
 His opening intelligence of thought, 
 
 And on his growing memory impressed 
 
 The moving tales of sacred history. 
 
 Her lips had taught him that through Red Sea depths, 
 
 During the darkness of one solemn night, 
 
 Piloted by the light of pillared fire, 
 
 That through the clearness of th' Arabian air 
 
 Shed an effulgence pure as Heav'n itself, 
 
 His ancestors had marched ; while enemies, 
 
 Essaying this to do, had been o'erwhelmed. 
 
 Like lead beneath the mighty waters sunk. 
 
 He knows besides, that from a mountain-top, 
 
 That flamed with fire and quaked with dreadful 
 
 throes, 
 The voice of God had sounded, giving laws 
 Of righteousness to His own chosen ones. 
 
 .So, hand-in-hand, the mother and her son 
 Approach the aged High-priest seated there ; 
 And thus she him accosts, ' IMy lord, behold 
 The woman that some years ago here prayed 
 Beside this Tabernacle door. I prayed, 
 I made request, for this same gentle child : 
 And now, behold ! with heartiness entire 
 I give him back to God. Throughout his life 
 He's lent unto the Lord.'
 
 (Woman ! thy words, 
 Coeval with the ages of the world, 
 Abide. And many a parent's heart shall glow ; 
 And many an eye shall glisten, through their power 
 And many a child in consequence be lent 
 Unto the One from whom the gift first came.) 
 
 List'ning, the aged man with pleasure thrills, 
 Eows in the inner chambers of his soul, 
 And worships God, inclining low his head. 
 Then he bethinks him of the evils rife 
 Within his household, wond'ring whether now 
 A compensation thus is willed of God. 
 
 And thus, in truth, it is ; for so the wheel 
 
 Of Providence has brought a destined grace. 
 
 To counterpoise the evils widely wrought 
 
 By Eli's house to Israel and to God. 
 
 But, swiftly following, another wheel, 
 
 With high and dreadful tire, and felloes huge. 
 
 And nave, whose jewelled eye flames with the fire 
 
 Of judgment clear, pronounced, unfaltering — 
 
 The grinding wheel of Government — rolls on. 
 
 Which Eli sees not. For no soul can sin. 
 
 Unscathed, against th' authority of Heaven. 
 
 But Hannah now, filled with the Spirit's joy, 
 Thus interrupts his train of wond'ring thought : 
 
 II
 
 ' My soul now singeth to the blessed Lord ; 
 My heart's made musical by His pure word ; 
 For, as I called, He looked on me and heard. 
 
 ' Oh, cease, ye proud ! to glory in your pride : 
 The Lord alone doth on the heavens ride ; 
 And thence your pettiness He will deride. 
 
 ' The Lord doth kill ; the Lord doth make alive : 
 
 He bringeth low, and makes again to thrive — 
 
 Vain, vain the thought, that would against Him strive. 
 
 ' He lifteth up the beggar from the ground. 
 And brings him where immortal joys abound — 
 The throne with uncreated glory crowned. 
 
 ' The feet of His own saints He'll ever keep ; 
 
 But all His enemies with ruin sweep 
 
 Where now the hopeless wail, the lost ones weep.' 
 
 So Samuel, with a linen ephod girt, 
 Waited and ministered before the Lord ; 
 And ev'ry year his mother came again, 
 Bringing a little robe wrought by her hands, 
 O'er which, as busy fingers plied their skill, 
 Her heart had interwoven prayer with praise. 
 
 Now Eli's sons, though clad in priestly robes. 
 And from the princely stock of Aaron sprung, 
 Unlike their ancestor, the famous son 
 Of Eleazar, had most vilely wrought
 
 In their high office. Deeds of %iolence, 
 
 Impurity, and grasping avarice. 
 
 Had overspread their lives with fungus-growth — 
 
 Sign of decay and death — and Israel, thus 
 
 Corrupted by their ill-exampled leaven, 
 
 Was fast becoming Belial-like as well, 
 
 Or else abhorred the off'rings of the Lord. 
 
 Their father, the whole nation's Judge, though grieved 
 With their pernicious ways, restrained them not. 
 Yea, though the Lord had hewn him by the stroke 
 Of sharp reproof, wielded through prophecy. 
 Yet he, through feebleness of will infirm. 
 Abode in weak inaction swallowed up. 
 
 The last and keenest reprimand of all 
 Came through a channel least of all surmised, 
 A channel chosen by Him, who designs 
 Out of the mouth of babes to perfect praise. 
 
 Samuel was still a child, and had his couch 
 Not far removed from Eli's place of rest. 
 And, in the early hours of one still night, 
 Was thrice aroused by the repeated call 
 Of his own name. 
 
 It was the voice of (iod ; 
 Yet not resounding with the roll prolonged 
 (Jf thunder, such as shook the hoary peaks 
 Of .Sinai with peals reverberate, 
 
 13
 
 But with the still, small voice, that later on 
 (Though not a crag caught up a whisper faint) 
 Would melt the stout heart of the Seer of Fire. 
 
 To Samuel, as from Eli's room, it breathed ; 
 And thrice the child appeared before the Priest 
 True to the call. Eli at length perceived 
 That God Himself must thus have called the child, 
 And bade him meekly say, ' Speak now, O Lord ! 
 Thy servant heareth Thee.' And so the Lord 
 Advised the child of the on-coming storm 
 Against the priestly house, and of events. 
 Strange and extreme, to hap on Israel. 
 
 Th' awakened morn had opened heaven's doors, 
 Whence streamed rich colour o'er the glowing east, 
 As Samuel oped the curtains of the tent, 
 And heav'nward gazed ; and the bright radiance fell 
 Upon his face, and form, and flowing hair, 
 As if to clothe with prophet's robe of fire 
 This newly-summoned servant of the Lord. 
 Yet trembled he with mem'ry of the night ; 
 And feared to show the secret, that with light, 
 Clearer than that of morning, had illumed 
 His young simplicity. Then Eli charged 
 Most solemnly the child to tell the tale. 
 And Samuel showed him all, with the dire threat 
 Of coming wrath to vindicate God's Name : 
 
 14
 
 And meekly and with tears the old man bowed, 
 And crooned in lowly way, ' It is the Lord : 
 Let Him perform what seemeth to Him good.' 
 
 But Samuel grew, and his word was with power ; 
 And Israel knew from Dan to Beersheba, 
 That he was stablished as a Levite true, 
 A Servant, and a Prophet of the Lord. 
 
 Part HI. 
 
 No more of Temple-rite or offering ! 
 No more of happy social unities ! 
 No more of holy convocations now, 
 Gathered before the tented canopy. 
 With its fair emblematic figures wrought 
 To image forth a mighty, swift-winged Power, 
 That shadowed o'er the chosen progeny 
 Of erring Jacob, weak but well beloved ! 
 
 The quick'ning trumpet's blare, the measured tramp 
 
 Of mailed feet, th' authoritative word 
 
 Of resolute command — these strike the air, 
 
 And beat upon the ear. For the accursed, 
 
 The Philistines, with teeming numbers, swarm 
 
 O'er the fair fields of Israel's peaceful land, 
 
 And summon by their presence to the war 
 
 The slumb'ring husbandmen of Ephraim. 
 
 IS
 
 Full soon the levy's made ; and, high with hope, 
 And strong in confidence, march forth the hosts 
 Of God, the living (]od, against the foe. 
 
 The roe had browsed at ease in Aphek's dale ; 
 
 The partridge reared her brood there long in peace ; 
 
 Unpressed, untrampled by the wand'ring foot, 
 
 The flowers awakened there in sunny calm 
 
 l'"or long had wa%ed their splendours unperceived. 
 
 Till, in their season falling, they alit 
 
 To blend their faded beauties with the sod. 
 
 Hut now the rack and ruin of rude war 
 
 Arrive to fright such natural calm afar. 
 
 On Aphek's hill and Ebenezer's height 
 The hostile armies silently regard 
 l-:ach other's front, for some short breathing-space ; 
 Until at length the lines of battle meet. 
 And then the clang of arms, of sword on shield. 
 And iron mace on brazen helmet, rings. 
 The trampling and the rush of eager foes, 
 The shouts of bravery, the wails i)f pain, 
 The crash of mail-clad warriors felled to earth, 
 As of some mighty forest-trees overwhelmed 
 In ruin prone and vast — these fill the air 
 With hurtle of confused, distressful sounds, 
 And resonance of dire bewilderment. 
 The clangour hideous affrights afar 
 Both bird and beast, that in the thicket lie, 
 
 i6
 
 Save only those that, far beyond man's ken 
 Circling in airy heights, keen-eyed survey 
 The progress of the doubtful combatings. 
 
 From side to side the battle sways, and some 
 Appear the victors there, where yet again 
 By prowess high the victory's reversed. 
 
 The light of day at last begins to fail. 
 
 And Israel's spirit with it wanes as fast ; 
 
 And, worn and tamed by the conflictings fierce, 
 
 Their hosts seek shelter in their welcome camp : 
 
 But of them thousands four, that to the figlit 
 
 Had with the morn marched hoj^eful forth and brave, 
 
 At night bestrew the soil, for ever still. 
 
 Forthwith upsprings a contest keen of words ; 
 
 And darkened looks, and deep-breathed mutterings. 
 
 Proclaim the high rebellion of their hearts 
 
 'Gainst the controlling hand of Providence. 
 
 Without heart-searching for the latent cause 
 
 Of their abasement, they decide to send 
 
 To Shiloh, thence to bring the sacred Ark, 
 
 With this fool's thought profane within their minds^ 
 
 If in our midst God's cherub-shadowed throne, 
 
 The golden Mercy-seat, be once set up. 
 
 Then must He fight for us to save Himself. 
 
 O impious ! as if God, that formed the worlds, 
 And framed the laws, which make the government 
 
 17 c
 
 Of all His universe, could thus be forced 
 To champion the array of lawless men, 
 Fairn from obedience and from rev'rence due. 
 
 In the mid hours of that same night arrives 
 
 In Shiloh's courts a swift-paced messenger, 
 
 With orders strict from all the tribal heads 
 
 For the Ark's transfer to the scene of strife. 
 
 Never before in Israel's history 
 
 Had such a summons roused the startled ear 
 
 Of Levite or of Priest. Time was, when all 
 
 The many thousands of the host abode 
 
 Unmovable, until the cloud arose 
 
 From oft' the Ark to lead them on their way. 
 
 But now no sign is made from God to man : 
 
 Demand imperative of man on God 
 
 Proclaims instead that strange time's character. 
 
 Eli remonstrates not ; but all the hours 
 Remaining to that weary night, and all 
 The hours of anxious day, he sits and waits 
 In tremulous expectancy of ill ; 
 And sad forebodings for the Ark of God, 
 So rudely wrested from its jilace of peace. 
 Fill up the slow-paced moments of his care. 
 
 Now, by the time the sun had halfway climbed 
 Heav'n's airy steep, Hophni and Phinehas, 
 With Levites bearing high, in garb succinct, 
 
 i8
 
 The covered Ark, approach th" impatient host. 
 And then a shout, loud with exultant joy, 
 Peals forth from ev'ry Isra'litish throat, 
 Making both earth and sky to ring again, 
 While foemen's hearts with dread reverberate. 
 
 Here was the mighty Power, that toppled o'er 
 The haughty walls and towers of Jericho ; 
 And bade e'en Jordan roll his swollen tide, 
 Confused, surprised, back to his fount anew. 
 Well might they shout, and well express their joy ; 
 For now has come the pledge of victory. 
 
 Vexation at the thought of triumph snatched 
 Forth from their greedy grasp, as soon as gained ; 
 And dread and gloom, despair and sullen hate. 
 Surge with conflicting strife within the breasts 
 Of the fierce Philistines— passions which merge 
 In desperation's torrent flood at last. 
 That sweeps and dashes with resistless force 
 Gath's phalanxes ere long against their foe. 
 
 With desp'rate bravery the conflict spreads 
 Along the bending lines of combatants ; 
 But, in the central field, the victory 
 To Canaan's dusky warriors is secured. 
 Without a reck or wavering of fear. 
 With wild impetuous resolve they charge 
 Right through the centre of the Hebrew van ; 
 
 19
 
 And cleave their onward way, on either hand 
 
 Scatt'ring the falt'ring yeomen. So the ships, 
 
 That plough the Tyrian main, divide the waves 
 
 That swell in pride beneath. And now more dense 
 
 Philistia's bravest press and penetrate, 
 
 Where stand the bearers of the Ark itself. 
 
 One moment serves to ri)ll in bloody dust 
 
 Levite and Priest, that guard its sanctity. 
 
 And hurl to earth the strongest that assays 
 
 To render aid. Yet, for awhile, around 
 
 The bright contested trophy works the war, 
 
 And thickest there the carnage of the day, 
 
 And saddest there the sight, when all is still. 
 
 Full soon Israel's divided flanks are rolled 
 
 Upon themselves, confused and disarrayed. 
 
 And then there follow dread and panic fears, 
 
 And then a hopeless rout, heart-quaking flight, 
 
 And many a bitter death. 
 
 By early morn. 
 With locks dishevelled, and with earth on head, 
 With garments rent, and terror in his looks, 
 A fugitive arrives, fainting and spent. 
 Within the priestly town, where Eli sits. 
 And, as with panting heart and broken words 
 lie blurts abrupt the news to troubled ears. 
 The cry of fear and anguish swells and falls, 
 And swells again with many a plaint on high. 
 
 20
 
 Then on he's led unto the aged Priest, 
 
 Who feebly asks, ' What is there done, my son ? 
 
 What is there done ?' And thus falls his reply, 
 
 ' Israel anew is smitten by the foe. 
 
 But now with slaughter terrible ; yea, more. 
 
 Thine own two sons, in linen ephod clad. 
 
 Are by the sword laid low ; and, worst of all, 
 
 The Ark of God is taken.' 
 
 Horrified, 
 Pierced by the arrowy sharpness of the words. 
 The Priest upflings his withered arms on high, 
 V/ith one mute anguished glance towards the sky ; 
 And so backward declines from oif his seat 
 With heaviness to earth — and his neck breaks. 
 
 Then are there cries and beatings of the breast. 
 Wringing of hands and hurryings to and fro, 
 With terror in all hearts, as judgment thus 
 Falls stern, unprecedented, and severe. 
 
 With what swift vulture-wing doth ill news fly. 
 
 And, from the azure vault of cloudless skies. 
 
 Swoop on its quarry in calm vales afar. 
 
 So leaps the thunderbolt to blast and scathe 
 
 The verdant freshness of the forest trees. 
 
 So from the scene of Eli's mournful end 
 
 Th' accumulated tidings onward roll 
 
 To the doomed house and wife of Phinehas. 
 
 She there awaits woman's sad travail-time, 
 
 21
 
 Now drawing near ; hut the compounded woes 
 Of tale so sorrowful o'erpower her soul, 
 And cause her pangs, with throes precipitate, 
 To strike in her their harpy talons fierce. 
 
 Vain the attempts of the pale witnesses 
 
 Of such a grief and such a bitterness 
 
 To soothe, or cheer, or kindle hope's pure flame 
 
 To flicker in her breast. ' Fear not !' they cry ; 
 
 ' A son is born to thee, to bear for long 
 
 The gentle name of Eli kind and good.' 
 
 She answers not, nor pays regard, nor looks 
 
 Upon the hapless offspring of her pains. 
 
 Yet once she gently mourns, ' Oh ! Ichabod 
 
 Must truly be his name j for vanished all 
 
 Is Israel's glory now.' And yet again, 
 
 l-'re set her wild eyes in the stony stare 
 
 Of senseless death, she murmurs faint and low, 
 
 ' The glory's gone, for ever gone from us I 
 
 Jehovah's golden throne's become a prey I 
 
 God's Ark, the pledge of constant victory, 
 
 Is captive taken by an enemy !' 
 
 The blow is struck, the terror travelled home, 
 The vengeance fall'n, the chastisement bestowed ; 
 And God hath shown the dread weight of His ire 
 'Gainst an apostate priesthood tampering 
 With holy matters that concern His Name. 
 
 22
 
 Eut He, who thus allowed the senseless type, 
 The hollow symbol of His glorious power, 
 Awhile to glut the vanity of foes, 
 That He might teach His people reverence, 
 Full soon with might could vindicate anew 
 His claim to be the God of all the earth. 
 
 But what the lesson, in these days of grace, 
 For us to learn, so many centuries 
 Nearer the consummation of the term 
 Of human history ? When flowers of love 
 Have bloomed upon earth's sterile wilderness, 
 Dew-fed from heav'n ; when clear-orbed promises 
 (Shrouded by veiling clouds in former times, 
 Or dimly seen by the unaided eye 
 Of Nature) fire aloft the firmament, 
 Revealing the full glory of Crod's grace ; 
 And 'neath such skies, and on such flow'ry earth, 
 Immanucl Himself hath walked with us. 
 What lesson and what warning e'en but this — 
 Woe ! woe ! to thee, apostate Priesthood too ! 
 That filFst the ranks of a false Christendom, 
 That in rare days of privilege hast turned 
 Into the grossest darkness God's pure light. 
 And used His grace for thy lasciviousness. 
 His spiritual precepts in support 
 Of claim to work the principles of Hell. 
 Fals Priests ! false Prophets ! rampant evil Beasts ! 
 
 23
 
 The hell of fire, your portion, is prepared. 
 
 And, as the world's dark Prince e'en now is judged, 
 
 And shall be hurled to suffer vengeance there, 
 
 \'e are adjudged to bear him company — 
 
 Fit fellowship in suffring as in crime. 
 
 Ciod thus will vindicate again His Name, 
 And cause His grace triumphantly to reign, 
 Though for a season He has seemed to fail. 
 And (though abrupt, uncouth, inopportune, 
 Leap forth the terrible, the dark, the stern, 
 Upon the pleasing sunniness, the calm. 
 Of many a bygone earthly history). 
 Yet, from eternity's far heights beheld. 
 The rugged and the smooth shall softly blend 
 Into one harmony. Thus will appear 
 The touch of skill, the strokes of genius. 
 That only fall from the great Master's hand. 
 
 24
 
 SALVATOR MUNDI.
 
 S J L VA TOR M UN D I. 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 NOT the vain things that men esteem ; 
 Not those whose transitory gleam 
 Athwart the stage of common things 
 A momentary splendour flings ; 
 Not those that move men's approbation 
 By the rude glare of ostentation ; 
 P'ind semblance or affinity 
 With the pure mind of Deity. 
 Infinite as that mind must be, 
 Its essence is humility. 
 For He, who came from lofty Heaven, 
 By life, by death, hath witness given 
 To being of such lowly mind, 
 That outcast souls in Him may lind 
 A shelter from scorn's bitter wind. 
 And men with awe in Him shall see. 
 Throned in sublime serenity, 
 A kindly Power, unmarred by weakness 
 A majesty of holy meekness. 
 27
 
 The truly meek are truly great ; 
 
 And wisdom's coveted estate 
 
 Ever with lowliness is found — 
 
 Consorted plants of heav'nly ground. 
 
 Thou lowly wise ! Thou meekly great ! 
 
 Within our spirits reinstate 
 
 Tiiat image lost, that mind effaced, 
 
 \N hich once man's nobler being graced. 
 
 That in us, who the earthly wear, 
 
 Thy heav'nly likeness may appear. 
 
 Canto I. 
 
 The Syrian sun is sinking low, 
 
 And I lermon's pearly crown of snow, 
 
 For one brief ev'ning hour, 
 Catching the rosy western glow, 
 Far northward doth the faint flush show 
 
 Of an oleander flower. 
 Eastward, the line of Moab's hills. 
 Like a level wall, the prospect fills. 
 
 Unbroken by a tower — 
 In Tyrian purple steeped, I wist, 
 Save where the rising Dead Sea mist 
 Changes to palest amethyst 
 
 Their flanks that seaward lower. 
 28
 
 By hilly roads of Palestine 
 "Weary bands of pilgrims twine 
 Towards ancestral homes : 
 Not theirs the joyous crowds to swell, 
 Attending some proud festival 
 
 By Zion's lofty domes. 
 The Roman now controls the land, 
 Repressing with relentless hand 
 
 The people's high-horn soul. 
 To his own city each must hie, 
 Unfired his breast, unlit his eye, 
 That there his genealogy 
 A censor may enrol. 
 
 Many and bitter the complaint 
 
 Of proud hearts, chafed by such constraint. 
 
 Is heard on ev'ry hand — 
 •Why doth not God, our God, arise, 
 And pour the vengeance of the skies 
 
 On those that spoil the land ?' 
 But two there are of milder thought. 
 Whom Rome's decree hath southward brought 
 
 From hilly Galilee — 
 The one, a man of aspect grave, 
 In whom the wheels of being drave 
 
 Slowly and thoughtfully : 
 29
 
 Kighleous the instincts of his mind ; 
 Righteous, with kindhness combined ; 
 Whose acts to mercy more incUned 
 
 Than to severity. 
 The other one, a maiden blest, 
 On whom the charms did sweetly rest 
 
 Of virgin loveliness — 
 A virgin, yet the blissful bride 
 Of the grave companion by her side. 
 
 He; like an oak of sturdy form, 
 Inured to onsets from the storm. 
 With more of strength than beauty seen 
 Beneath its garb of dusky green ; 
 Which yet doth cast a tender shade 
 O'er flowers that faint i' the sunny glade. 
 She, like a silver birchen tree, 
 Graceful in form, a joy to see. 
 Drooping with modest bashfulness, 
 A Naiad of the wilderness. 
 Yea, like a silver birchen tree, 
 Which, through quick sensibility, 
 Quivers in ev'ry passing air, 
 That stirs its pendent tresses fair ; 
 Yet clasps with firm tenacity 
 Its virgin soil, its parent rock. 
 In time of the rough, rude tempest shock. 
 
 30
 
 All ass the Virgin pure doth bear, 
 While watching with untiring care 
 
 Her husband strides beside. 
 They've passed o'er many a sun-scorched down, 
 By giant rocks, that darkly frown 
 
 On many a mountain-side. 
 They've crunched the pebbles by their tread 
 In many a rugged torrent-bed, 
 
 (fathered in times of flood ; 
 And heard, at close of tlie glaring day, 
 The wolf of the ev'ning's hollow bay, 
 And jackals howling for their prey, 
 
 Prowling in quest of food : 
 Yet 'neath the stars have they sweetly slept, 
 In God's protection safely kept. 
 
 They've passed at length the Giants' vale, 
 Where David heard the light breeze sail 
 
 Among the signal-trees ; 
 When, grasping sword and spear and shield, 
 He conquered on the foughten field. 
 And forced the dreaded foe to yield, 
 
 And won the wished-for peace. 
 
 Now, suddenly, with eager eyes, 
 ' Look ! look ! my love !' the goodman cries, 
 * Where Bethl'hem lifts toward the skies 
 Her peaceful, homely bowers. 
 31
 
 See, as her slopes full steep incline, 
 Where the jjurple fruit of Judah's vine 
 
 Ripens in summer hours. 
 And those are the hills of olden fame, 
 Where David's hand in death did tame 
 
 The bear and lion's rage. 
 Patience I a little patience more ! 
 And we alight at the hostel-door, 
 And from th' eflects of travel sore 
 
 Our weary limbs assuage.' 
 
 At length the toilsome journey's o'er : 
 
 At last they near the hostel-door ; 
 
 When what the sight that meets their eyes ?- 
 
 Travellers appear in varied guise : 
 
 Roman, and Greek, and Arab too, 
 
 Jostle with Edomite and Jew, 
 
 And vainly seek for entrance through. 
 
 About this thronging multitude, 
 That strive and press in anxious mood, 
 Are beasts that groan beneath the load 
 <Jf household goods about them stowed, 
 Women and children intermingling. 
 And camels tall with soft bells jingling ; 
 While, heajied in gay confusion round, 
 Beds, carpets, mats, bestrew the ground. 
 32
 
 
 On high ascend discordant cries, 
 As from a flock of sea-fowl rise, 
 Startled Ijy sudden, sharp surprise 
 
 In some calm coast-recess. 
 Plain proof appears from such a din, 
 That the strait limits of the inn 
 
 Aftbrd for them no space. 
 The rich may find an open door, 
 Where bolted gates exclude the poor, 
 
 With grim and iron face — 
 Not so with God's own house on high 
 Whoever will may there draw nigh ; 
 
 Whoever will may come — 
 Not so with Christ in after-days : 
 Souls, wearied out on troublous ways, 
 Upon Mis gentle heart of grace 
 
 Might find a restful home. 
 
 Joseph and Mary turn away 
 
 To find a lodging while they stay 
 
 In one of Judah's caves — 
 Such caves as in that land abound, 
 Deep tunnelling the hilly ground ; 
 Such as yielded Uindly covert, 
 When from kingly hate they suffered. 
 
 To David and his braves ; 
 33
 
 Such as formed the trusty hold 
 Of many a hardy robber bold 
 
 In days long afterwards ; 
 Such as now give peaceful fold 
 In these more tranquil days of old 
 
 To simple flocks and herds. 
 
 Days pass, and lo ! the wedded maid 
 A bright, rejoicing mother's made. 
 And lowlily her Babe is laid 
 
 Within a manger's rim — 
 An ass's crib, the humble bed — 
 
 A cave, the home for Him ; 
 And yet they bask in God's own smile, 
 And have a heav'n on earth the while 
 
 O Poverty ! 'twere not in thee 
 To bind with bands of misery 
 
 The captives of thy sway. 
 Full often those, that have no store 
 Of special treasure, joy the more 
 In what they commonly possess 
 With all that roam earth's wilderness. 
 The flowers, that beautify the sod, 
 Tell where have passed the feet of God : 
 While stars, that shine from the cov'ring sky. 
 Speak of a Mercy throned on high. 
 And bid Faith spread its wings and fly 
 
 Above Earth's cumbrous clay. 
 34
 
 And Faith will rise, though joys decline. 
 And Hope will mount to heav'n's pure shrine, 
 And the poor, contrasting things aliove 
 With things below, will learn to love 
 The God to whom they pray. 
 
 But now this Child from heaven sent 
 
 (Rare gem for such an uncouth setting I) 
 
 .Sprang not from human will's inten*. 
 Nor from a natural begetting. 
 
 This offspring of virginity, 
 
 This wondrous heav'nly mystery, 
 
 Was shepherd of the starry sky. 
 The great, the mighty God ! 
 
 One time by spirit-hosts obeyed, 
 
 But now in lowly manger laid ; 
 
 On errand of strange mercy come 
 
 To souls involved in a devil's doom. 
 
 'Tis, in truth, the Lord from heaven, 
 Love's sweet fruit to sinners given. 
 For that fruit, whose taste had driven 
 
 Man from Eden bright. 
 From such surpassing majesty, 
 
 As dazzled heaven with light. 
 Come down to feeble infancy, 
 The best tyjie of humility 
 
 Pictured in mortal sight. 
 
 35
 
 P'rom universal government, 
 
 From angel ministry, 
 Become a weak dependent, 
 
 A nursling on the knee ; 
 From seraphs' adoration 
 
 To need of woman's care ; 
 From heights of exaltation 
 
 To regions of despair ; 
 From where no battle rages 
 
 To stormy paths of faith ; 
 From the full control of ages 
 
 To life that ends in death. 
 This Thy descent, Prince of the realms above ! 
 This thine exchange, in evidence of love — 
 In evidence of love so deep 
 That none, who live on earth to weep. 
 Coming to Thee, need ever keep 
 
 A woe or sorrow more. 
 
 What living soul hath not felt the power, 
 That moves in the calm still evening hour. 
 When Love has lit his lamps on high. 
 Where they hang in the broad o'er-arching sky ? 
 When the air, that l^reathes on the upturned brow, 
 Wakens by its soft, gentle sough 
 Feelings of awe and feelings of joy, 
 
 36
 
 As it seems a spirit passing by — 
 A spirit of Nature come from far, 
 From spaces past heaven's fairest star. 
 
 'Twas under the stars that Abram learnt 
 Those lessons of faith, so deeply burnt 
 Into his soul by the voice of (jod, 
 As onward his pilgrim way he trod. 
 'Twas in the field at the eventide 
 That Isaac awaited his coming bride, 
 And pondered the grace of heaven's Lord, 
 That chose him heir of His plighted word. 
 Again, 'twas at eve, when the sun was set. 
 That Jacob, the fugitive, was met. 
 Not by goblin, ghost, or fay. 
 Such as scare through heated fancy's play 
 The thralls of superstition's sway, 
 But by visions of angels from above, 
 Leaving, approaching, the Throne of Love. 
 
 And still it is as the night draws nigh 
 That deepest impressions on us lie, 
 Concerning the spirit -world on high, 
 And the God that there rules constantly. 
 There are worlds beyond, there are worlds above. 
 The narrow earth whereon we move : 
 
 37
 
 And, when the soul leaves its humble home, 
 Where in that infinite shall it roam ? 
 And is the Eternal Himself made known 
 To the sighing heart of the seeking one ? 
 And doth the blood of His Christ atone 
 For lives oft expended on self alone ? 
 
 Such aie the thoughts, to every heart, 
 Which eve's pure calm may oft impart ; 
 And such will oft come, and such will oft stay 
 In hearts that would wish them far away ; 
 For 'tis God that speaks from the ev'ning sky, 
 And souls He hath made give answering cry 
 To their Maker's voice thus sounding nigh. 
 
 In fields adjoining Bethlehem 
 Flocks were abiding, and o'er them 
 
 Shepherds kept watch by night ; 
 And oft, as it drew towards evening, 
 They spake of the days of the Shepherd-King 
 And of wonders wrought in the days of old. 
 When God kept guard o'er Israel's fold, 
 And His angels appeared in time of need, 
 And stirred their chiefs, till they rose and freed 
 
 The land from foemen's might. 
 38
 
 And then ihey mourned that now no more 
 
 Glory appeared, as in days of yore, 
 
 And they sought the Lord by prayers and tears, 
 
 And uttered their hopes, and owned their fears, 
 
 And prayed that He at last would send 
 
 The Saviour promised, to defend 
 
 The cause of truth and right. 
 
 Upon this night, when the Babe is born. 
 They are at their posts to watch till morn. 
 When, like the lightning, suddenly 
 An angel speeds from the flaming sky, 
 And God's dread glory shines around, 
 Illumining the dull, dark ground. 
 
 Brief his message — brief, but sweet, 
 Mortals' hearing thus to greet : 
 ' To you a Saviour's born to-day. 
 Who shall on David's throne bear sway, 
 A Saviour, which is Christ the Lord, 
 The Father's Son, th' Incarnate Word. 
 And lo ! the sign which God hath made — 
 Ye shall find the Babe in a manger laid.' 
 
 Then suddenly a glory-scene, 
 Exceeding aught by Jacob seen. 
 
 Meets their astonished sight. 
 39
 
 A number ot the heavenly host, 
 Like serried lines of billows tost, 
 f)n spreading till in distance lost. 
 
 Appear in glory bright ; 
 With flaming helm, and shining shield, 
 And sword which only they can wield, 
 
 The panoply of light. 
 From still depths of the midnight sky, 
 In close array, they stream, they fly, 
 Cohort, and maniple, and band. 
 The chivalry of Heaven's own lanil. 
 
 With them they Ijring, besides their splendour, 
 The sweet songs of their land of wonder. 
 And all at once as in courts above, 
 Break forth in notes of joy and love. 
 Listen the men with glad surprise 
 To the dying fall, or the swelling rise 
 That thrills with its clear treble high 
 Their hearts to tearful ecstasy. 
 
 Yet once before such gorgeous strains 
 Had filled with sweetness earth's low plains — 
 Then, when the morning stars were singing, 
 As Nature's beauty forth was springing 
 From dreary realms of Chaos old, 
 Pow'rless his sceptre then to hold. 
 
 40
 
 Thus, then, the radiant angels sang, 
 
 While the earth and the air with their voices rang : 
 
 Glory to God in the highest ! 
 
 Praise to the Prince of Peace ! 
 All wants, Lord I Thou suppliest ; 
 
 Thy givings never cease. 
 On us in the realms of glory. 
 
 The angels of Thy might. 
 From the ages old and hoary, 
 
 Thou hast poured Thy gifts of Light. 
 Fly, angels, fly, with wings that gleam with glory I 
 To utmost worlds proclaim— proclaim your story ! 
 
 Unto man, Thine earthly creature, 
 
 Estranged from Thee by sin, 
 Who hath changed the course of Nature 
 
 And defiled his heart within, 
 From Thee hath now descended 
 
 The lovegift of Thy Son— 
 All gifts of mercy blended 
 
 Together in that one. 
 Fly, angels, fly, with wings that gleam with glory ! 
 To farthest realms proclaim — proclaim your story ! 
 
 Glory to Him reclining 
 
 In Bethl'hem's lowly bed. 
 Whose grace shall bring bright shining 
 
 To hearts where hope is dead ! 
 41
 
 Glory to God in the highest ! 
 
 Glory that ne'er shall cease ! 
 Glory to (Jod in the highest ! 
 And unto men His peace I 
 Fly, angels, fly, with wings that gleam with glory! 
 To humble earth proclaim — proclaim your story ! 
 
 The strains of hallowed music stay ; 
 The lustrous vision fades away ; 
 Back to the world of perfect day 
 
 The angels wing their flight. 
 The sky its ancient aspect takes ; 
 The nightwind sighs, and feebly breaks 
 
 The glimmering stars' pale light. 
 But the men's heart is with the angels gone 
 After delights too soon withdrawn. 
 
 With rapid step and eager heart 
 For Bethlehem they soon depart. 
 And find, e'en as the angel said, 
 The Babe there in a manger laid. 
 Then joyfully the men make known 
 The things the Lord that night hath shown ; 
 And whoso hears those marvels wonders, 
 While o'er them Mary meekly ponders. 
 42
 
 The shepherds to their flocks return 
 With eyes alight from joys that Inirn 
 
 With mem'ry of their story : 
 For they have seen the Lord's Anointed, 
 The royal Seed by Him appointed 
 
 To be proud Israel's glory ; 
 To bring His people sure salvation, 
 To work redemption for their nation. 
 
 43
 
 Introduction jo Canio II. 
 
 O Solitude ! the spirit bends 
 To thee, with longing for amends 
 Ft)r all tlic harass and the care, 
 That it is daily l)i(l to hear 
 
 In the world's ceaseless strife. 
 Some one of Nature's wildernesses, 
 Whose turf no hostile foot yet presses, 
 Remote from man's defiling trace- 
 That is the paradise, tlie place. 
 To \ ield the mind restoring grace, 
 
 And give the heart new life. 
 
 The solemn orbs that nightly roll 
 Their glowing splendours to the goal 
 
 Of each successive day ; 
 The fairy tints the chaste Dawn weaves 
 Into her vesture, ere she leaves 
 Her home, whereon the bold sun heaves 
 
 His burning, beating ray ; 
 The sober silence of the hills, 
 Broke only by the glee that fills 
 The merry heart of laughing rills, 
 
 That leap from their mother's side ; 
 44
 
 The blissful whispers of the trees, 
 Telling their pleasures to the breeze, 
 Like the low titterings that seize 
 
 The maidens of a bride : 
 Or, should such sweets unnoticed pass, 
 The sigh that stirs the withered grass, 
 Telling man that his prime, alas ! 
 
 Like wind away shall glide- 
 God's mighty preachers are they all, 
 That in the wilderness do call, 
 Raising from haunts of common thought, 
 To realms, where God lliniself hath wrought, 
 
 yUnds that attentive be. 
 And these have power to touch the strings, 
 Bound in the inner heart of things 
 
 About man's destiny. 
 These soothe, and calm, and please, and rcst- 
 ( )i warn, awaken, prove, and test — 
 
 Man's heart of mystery. 
 
 Vet not the whole of being this ; 
 
 Else were one but a misty dreamer, 
 As idle as the flutt'ring streamer 
 That decks a mast. This were to miss 
 The very aim and end of being, 
 Most craven-like from duty fleeing.
 
 Nay I with the fill of needed rest, 
 To labour back with keener zest ; 
 After the sweets of solitude, 
 Then, with the shattered force renewed, 
 Back to the contest and the strife 
 Upon the crowded fields of life ; 
 After God's word in peace received. 
 Then deeds to show it was believed ; 
 So shall life nearer perfect be, 
 Nor lost when comes eternity. 
 
 Canto II. 
 
 l''ull six-and-twenty years are fled, 
 And silence through them all is spread, 
 Deej) as the silence of the dead, 
 
 Unbroke by voice Divine. 
 No further glory hath appeared. 
 No standard of the Lord been reared. 
 
 No kingly state doth shine. 
 Ves, six-and-twenty years are past, 
 And hope and heart are failing fast. 
 When lo I with loud and clarion-blast, 
 
 The voice prophetic sounds — 
 46
 
 Il sounds o'er Judah's barren hills, 
 And ev'ry gloomy giilly fills. 
 
 As far as Edom's bounds. 
 The harsh brine of the sad Dead Sea 
 Sinks deeper and more heavily 
 
 Within its hollow tomb ; 
 And binds with leaden bands its surge, 
 WTiile from the rocks, that form its verge, 
 Peals forth the melancholy dirge 
 
 That tells of wrath to come. 
 The sultry air of Jordan's plain 
 Doth loud and long its notes sustain ; 
 While Salem, startled from its slumbers, 
 Wakes at the call its teeming numbers. 
 
 ' Repent ! God's kingdom is at hand !' 
 Rings the alarm throughout the land. 
 The peasant pauses on the lea, 
 Pond'ring the tidings solemnly ; 
 The shepherd on the lonely height 
 Trembles, as fall the shades of night ; 
 Even the haughty Pharisee, 
 And unbelieving Sadducee, 
 Fear lest the tidings may prove true, 
 And wrath outbreaking fierce pursue 
 The disregarding soul. 
 47
 
 The publican and harlot press 
 Forth to the savage wilderness, 
 Stirred by the sad soul-bitterness 
 Of guilt's dismay and sin's distress ; 
 While many a penitential tear 
 Falls at the thought that God is near. 
 
 Now John hath in the deserts been 
 From infancy, through childhood green, 
 
 To manhood's sapient hours. 
 The scorching sun's incessant glare, 
 The hot breath of the desert air. 
 Have burnt his sinewy members there 
 
 As brown as autumn's bowers. 
 His hair is black as a raven's wing ; 
 His brow as dark, deep shadowing 
 Eyes, whose depths burn with fiery gleam, 
 As though fed from the solar beam — 
 With eye of lire and tongue of flame, 
 Fit herald he to sound the name 
 
 Of Israel's coming King. 
 
 Away in Nature's privacy 
 He's seen the awful potency 
 
 Of the Almighty's powers. 
 There in those solitudes alone 
 He's worshipped at God's burning throne, 
 And learnt His righteous wrath to own. 
 
 That over the guilty lowers. 
 48
 
 Oft has he seen a vale of flowers 
 Transformed within a few short hours 
 
 Beyond a year's retrieve. 
 The morn might see the green grass grow 
 Spangled by lilies' crimson glow ; 
 
 But, ere had fall'n the eve, 
 All would be swept by fiery death, 
 Borne on the Khamsin's burning breath, 
 
 Far as eye could perceive — 
 Fit picture of the sinner's doom, 
 When once the Lord's dread day hath come. 
 
 Oft from Engedi's precipice 
 
 The seer would view the drear abyss, 
 
 Where, sunk beneath a wat'ry plain. 
 
 The Sodom cities still remain, 
 
 Cursed by a double penalty — 
 
 A flood of fire, a wat'ry sea. 
 
 Across the gulf he oft would gaze. 
 Watching the shifting, sulph'rous haze ; 
 Then think of gulf far more profound. 
 Which eye can't scan, nor plummet sound — 
 The last abode of spirits lost. 
 Upon a fiery deluge tost, 
 Where, banned beneath God's changeless ire. 
 They suffer wrath's eternal fire. 
 
 49 K
 
 Sad, then, his noble heart would grow, 
 Considering th' approaching woe 
 
 Of many of his nation ; 
 And hot again with zeal would glow. 
 Unto the careless ones to show 
 
 The first steps of salvation. 
 
 Leaving the deserts of Judita 
 For regions opposite Percea, 
 
 John comes to Jordan's ford, 
 Urging by sturdy argument 
 ^ Repentance as the J^mimmmm^, ^P7-t^^i%^ Ci^c^t^ 
 
 V^^Uf^K^Z&y Wtai^HBi^Hgr the arching firmament 
 Of peace with Ciod the Lord. 
 
 And, as upon the bank he stands, 
 Where tawny wavelets lap the sands 
 
 Upon the river's marge, 
 He cries, while pointing to the tide, 
 ' Behold the stream, which did divide 
 Vour fathers on the other side 
 
 From where ye roam at large. 
 But, when their hosts were hither come. 
 The Lord cleft through the water's foam 
 A broad road for their passage home 
 
 To Canaan's longed-for shore. 
 50
 
 Then, when had quite passed all their ranks, 
 Rolled Jordan over all his banks, 
 
 Wide flowing as before. 
 Thus rolled He evermore away 
 Egypt's reproach upon that day. 
 
 ' Baptize ye in the selfsame stream, 
 And thus dis]iel the shameful dream 
 Of past ill lives, that so may beam 
 
 God's smile on you once more. 
 Here Naaman the Syrian plunged. 
 And from his person was expunged 
 
 His hideous leprosy. 
 In token of sincere regret 
 For sin and sin's reverses met, 
 And of resolve on goodness set. 
 
 Plunge ye in Jordan's sea.' 
 
 (Flowing river ! flowing river ! 
 Flecked with flash and darkling quiver '. 
 Coursing onward, staying never '. 
 Emblem of the vast ' For Ever '.' 
 Who's unmoved by thy soft singing. 
 With its warble ever ringing 
 Echoes louder than its own, 
 Full of volume, deep in tone, 
 Sounding on the wakened ear 
 From intimity afar ? 
 
 51
 
 Surely that is only real, 
 Which thou makest thine ideal, 
 Which thou strivest to resemble, 
 Even as thou art its symbol. 
 Thou art shadow, and not substance — 
 Substance that, which in far distance, 
 Age on age, doth rise before us, 
 The ' For Ever ' tow'ring o'er us.) 
 
 The crowds along the river's reach 
 Sway 'neath the fiery prophet's speech ; 
 They listen to the water's lay 
 Pursuing plaintively its way ; 
 They trace the thrilling ancient story 
 Of Israel's faith and Israel's glory ; 
 Then on their own misdeeds reflect — 
 The flagrant sin, the cold neglect. 
 The shame, the guilt, the bitterness, 
 The waste of life, the soul's distress. 
 Hundreds then plunge into the tide, 
 Dashing the startled waters wide. 
 And round the Baptist's person press. 
 Confessing their deep guiltiness. 
 
 Oh 1 'twere a sight to gladden heaven. 
 To see the tears by sorrow driven 
 A down the rough, rude, brazen cheek. 
 While lips make their confession meek. 
 
 52
 
 The sigh, the sob, the heaving heart, 
 The praying lip, the teardrop's start, 
 The look of hope that rives the gloom 
 Spread through the fear of sin's just doom- 
 These are the signs repentance gives, 
 The hopeful signs that the lost one lives ; 
 And these abound upon this day, 
 When thus John clears Messiah's way. 
 
 The winged news flies far and wide, 
 By hamlet, town, and countryside, 
 That John baptizeth in the tide 
 
 Of their historic stream. 
 Salem is to her centre shaken ; 
 Levite and Priest with fear are taken ; 
 While wonder and concern awaken 
 
 The Rulers from their dream. 
 
 Forthwith they send their messengers, 
 To press the question that now stirs 
 
 In ev'ry Jewish breast — 
 ' Art thou the Christ that is to be ?'— 
 They wait in grave expectancy. 
 ' Nay !' saith God's servant, ' I'm not He ; 
 
 Nor yet from Heav'n's sweet rest 
 Am I Elijah come again. 
 On earth a brief while to remain ; 
 53
 
 Nor yet that Teacher of your tribes, . 
 Whom Moses in the Law describes.' 
 ' Who art thou, then, that we may know 
 To answer them that bade us go ?' 
 The Seer replies : ' A voice am I 
 That in the wilderness doth cry, 
 " Prepare the way of God most high : 
 
 Make His paths straight and true." 
 ' Why, then, baptizest thou ?' they cry. 
 Humbly returns the meek reply — 
 ' With water I indeed baptize ; 
 But from among you One shall rise 
 Who with the Spirit shall baptize. 
 
 With burning fire also. 
 Plain water, as a sign, I use ; 
 But am unfit His shoes to loose. 
 Who from the Spirit's golden cruse 
 
 Shall pour lils holy oil. 
 His fan is also in His hand, 
 And He shall throughly purge His land, 
 Bringing the wheat into His store, 
 But burning up the chaff with roar 
 
 Of fire unquenchable.' 
 
 Swiftly conveyed to Salem's halls. 
 This answer utterly appals 
 The slaves of form, tradition's thralls ; 
 And, though some steadily reject 
 John's witness, to their souls' defect 
 54
 
 And lasting loss, yet some depart, 
 In baptism to take their part 
 
 , With others of the nation. 
 But, when John sees their bands draw near 
 In long robe and broad phylacter. 
 Yet without sigh, or groan, or tear, 
 Or sign of penitence sincere, 
 Wrath fills his heart and fires his eye. 
 And thus indignant he doth cry : 
 ' Offspring of hell ! vile serpent's scum ! 
 Who warned you from the wrath to come 
 
 To seek your soul's salvation ? 
 Think not to say, "We're Abram's sons " ; 
 For God is able of these stones 
 To raise to Him a nation. 
 And now, behold ! close at the root 
 Of tree that beareth not good fruit 
 
 His judgment-axe is laid. 
 To hew it down without delay, 
 And cast it in the fire away — 
 
 Fit retribution paid. 
 I therefore counsel you to yield 
 Such fruit, as God Himself hath sealed 
 
 As worthy of repentance. 
 From lust of power, and pride of place, 
 From trust in form, or rank, or race, 
 To turn away, that so His grace 
 May mitigate your sentence.'
 
 They hear, they sink beneath the wave ; 
 But He who wields the power to save, 
 Who tries the reins, and probes the heart, 
 And scans the soul's most secret part — 
 He only of the act can know 
 How much is genuine and true. 
 
 On one such day from Nazareth 
 (Dark region of o'ershading death I) 
 
 An Israelite draws near ; 
 And, as He comes with lowly tread 
 Towards the ancient river's bed, 
 
 God whispers in John's ear — 
 ' Behold I the One of priceless merit, 
 Who shall baptize men with My Spirit, 
 The very One before whose face 
 Thou hast fulfilled a herald's place.' 
 
 John turns on Him an awestruck gaze ; 
 And, as a subject homage pays 
 
 To his true sovereign, 
 His spirit bends with reverence. 
 Owning the high pre-eminence 
 
 Of Christ as Lord and King. 
 But, ere he can obeisance make, 
 Messiah bids him turn and take 
 His place as Baptist to fulfil 
 I'ven to Him God's perfect will. 
 56
 
 , 
 
 ' I need to be baptized of Thee '.' 
 John cries, ' and comest Thou to me ?' 
 ' Suffer it with good willingness,' 
 The Lord replies in lowliness ; 
 ' So must we work all righteousness, 
 
 And own God's ordinance.' 
 Then he baptizeth, when, behold ! 
 The heavens, asunder rent, unfold 
 
 Unearthly radiance ; 
 And from above their drapery, 
 Dovelike in snowy purity, 
 
 The Holy Ghost descends. 
 Softly, with level wing outspread, 
 He lights upon Messiah's head, 
 As low in prayer He bends. 
 And lo ! a voice from Heaven's high throne. 
 In deep, majestic, thunder-tone— 
 ' Behold My Son ! My well-beloved ! 
 On whom My favour rests unmoved ! 
 Hear Him ! oh, hear ye Him !' 
 
 On windy, wintry days in March 
 One sees the branches of the larch 
 (Though stunted, gnarled, and blasted too, 
 By storms that blow the winter through,) 
 New-clothed in tenderest of green 
 Of all the shades in spring-time seen, 
 57
 
 Melting the heart to tenderness 
 
 By their unlooked-for loveliness,: 
 
 Like former pleasures, long forgot, 
 
 Come back to cheer some lonely lot ; 
 
 Or, like a friend long since grown old. 
 
 Furrowed with many a wrinkle's fold, 
 
 Seen in the fair light of a dream 
 
 With youthful freshness turned on him — 
 
 A vision so inspiriting, 
 
 As cheers one still on awakening. 
 
 Thus Israel's dry and sapless bough, . 
 By new life ]5ermeated now, 
 Puts forth her Inids and blossoms too, 
 The signs that spring-tide courseth through 
 And heart and hope revive amain — 
 The dead is come to life again. 
 
 The Plougher's toil is overpast ; 
 The Chief of Sowers come at last ; 
 The Spirit's gentle rain descended ; 
 The sterile season surely ended ; 
 And blissful days of reformation 
 Have dawned upon a hopeful naticr. 
 
 58
 
 Introduction to Canto III. 
 
 Land of the North 1 Fair Galilee ! 
 Detested of the Pharisee ! 
 By him accounted rude, uncouth, 
 Untrained in manners, and, forsooth ! 
 Unskilled in all the points and saws 
 That cumbered his Tradition's laws ! 
 Yet to the Christian heart how dear 
 Thy name, thy memories appear ! 
 Recalling teachings the most blest. 
 That e'er illumined human breast ! 
 
 Erstwhiles, thy tribes in darkness staid. 
 Beneath winged Deith's appalling shade ; 
 But, in these days of which we write. 
 Thy peopled cities saw great light — 
 A light that still reflected shines. 
 Far as Time's broadening river twines. 
 
 Flashes a splendour more divine 
 From thy pure waters crystalline. 
 Than from brightest gleam or from warmest glow 
 The sun of the sky ever bade thee show. 
 While, moved by hand of Deity, 
 Each bird of thine, each flower, each tree. 
 Utters its own sweet homily. 
 59
 
 And never shall arrive the day, 
 When thy felt power shall pass away ; 
 I'Or, though thy cities all are fled, 
 And those that dwelt in them are dead, 
 And thou sunk lower than the weakest, 
 ^'et, even being dead, thou speakest. 
 
 Canto III. 
 
 Alongside Lake dennesaret, 
 Like lustrous pearly circlet set 
 
 About a mirror's rim, 
 A fringe of cities, gleaming white 
 In Syria's clear, unclouded light, 
 
 ISordered the fair lake's brim. 
 
 In one of these a little band 
 Of lowly jiien together stand 
 Around One of far nobler mien 
 Than other of their number seen — 
 The One, whom John did late baptize, 
 Their Master, whom they dearly prize. 
 60
 
 Wiih joy-lit countenance and eye, 
 To Him the story they supply 
 Of ev'ry lesson they have taught, 
 And every work of power wrought. 
 Throughout the countryside- 
 Returned from long excursion there. 
 The message of the Christ to bear. 
 
 I'^or unto days of heaven on earth 
 Their kingdom-service had giv'n birth ; 
 And, wheresoe'er their feet had prest, 
 God's grace had flowed, God's love had Idlest 
 And, at the hearing of their tread, 
 Close shrunk within a straitened bed, 
 The floods of ill, with drooping head, 
 Had curbed their turljid flow. 
 
 And now the city's at their feet, 
 Eager to taste the mercies sweet 
 
 The Christ hath to bestow ; 
 But, with coming and with going 
 Of a restless crowd's onflowing. 
 The worn workers find no leisure 
 From their labours now past measure. 
 Then saith the Lord, ' Come ye apart : 
 Rest burdened mind and wearied heart 
 
 In solitude awhile.' 
 6i
 
 Forth to the pebbly strand they haste ; 
 Into their little ship as fast ; 
 And soon across the calm lake's sheen 
 They leave a darkened track between 
 
 Their vessel and the shore. 
 The oars gleam in the sunny light, 
 With each dij) in the waters bright, 
 As the broad blades turn through the rowers' sleight 
 
 Ere they sink in the lake once more. 
 And the steadiness of onward motion, 
 Away from the brisk town's commotion, 
 Afar from all distressful sound, 
 Into the deepening silence found 
 
 Upon the lake's still breast ; 
 And the calm of the welkin overhead, 
 Greeting the lake's around them spread, 
 
 Induce sweet sense of rest. 
 P'or no sound on the ear doth glide, 
 Save the plash of oars in the dimpling tide, 
 And the measured thud they cause beside 
 
 Against the rowlocks prest. 
 
 Grand in its pure tranquillity. 
 The Master's face shines peacefully, 
 Index of depths within the soul. 
 Unruffled by the wild control 
 62
 
 Of sweeping storm or angry gust, 
 From passion sprung or human lust. 
 Through sight of Him an added rest 
 Flows to the glad disciples' breast. 
 
 Never was Master seen before, 
 Whose influence had greater power 
 
 To win the heart's devotion : 
 The wonders of His might untold 
 Increasingly to them unfold 
 
 An ever-widening ocean ; 
 While daily they experience 
 The kindness of a providence, 
 That works by love's blest act and deed, 
 Teaching them, too, for ev'ry need 
 
 To set pure faith in motion. 
 
 Their pleasant passage now is o"er ; 
 Their boat grounds on the further shore ; 
 And, landing by a grassy place. 
 With lightened heart and sprightly pace, 
 To uplands broad they press their way, 
 With purpose to chase quite away 
 
 The remnants of their care. 
 But hast'ning crowds forthwith appear, 
 Sjjeeding from cities far and near 
 To meet the Master there. 
 £3
 
 Sink then their hearts at the hapless sight, 
 As from them disappeareth quite 
 
 Ail hope of further rest ; 
 Vet to their Lord instinctive'y 
 T hey turn a quick, inquiring eye, 
 
 His feelings thus to test. 
 
 Far different the Saviour's mood ! 
 Awhile His mercies silent brood, 
 Then hurst their bounds in gracious flood, 
 As He receives the multitude. 
 
 Conversing lovingly. 
 Tender compassions fill His heart, 
 And to His glistening eye impart 
 
 The gleam of sympathy ; 
 While, of the grace within His breast, 
 The kindness on His face expressed 
 
 Speaketh unerringly. 
 
 So of the precepts that apply 
 To starry realms above the sky. 
 Equally with the plains that lie 
 
 Beneath earth's single sun, 
 With air, that unmistakably 
 Bears impress of authority, 
 
 He speaks till day is done : 
 64
 
 Nor yet ignores th' infirmities, 
 
 That sap the powers and break the peace 
 
 Of sad humanity ; 
 But with soft hand, that quick conveys 
 The touch of power, abruptly stays 
 
 Disease's painful course ; 
 And thus, by word and deed of love, 
 Urges their thoughts to God above 
 
 With gentle, quiet force. 
 
 The day now weareth fast away : 
 Still lingering, the people stay : 
 Till Jesus, full of mercies still. 
 Breathing forth kindness and goodwill, 
 Compassionates the weary throng. 
 Abiding fasting now so long. 
 
 While yet the sunset glories shine. 
 He bids them on the turf recline — 
 
 A many-tinted scene ; 
 For company by company, 
 Like flowers among the grass we see, 
 In clumps of rich emblazonry. 
 
 Break thus the sward's pure green. 
 Then requisitions He the store 
 Borne by a fisher urchin poor — 
 Some barley loaves, some little fish, 
 A ]iaucity to meet his wish. 
 65
 
 Taking the loaves within His hands, 
 Before th' expectant throng He stands, 
 And, lifting up His eyes on high, 
 Blesses and breaks the scant supply. 
 
 For the disciples now has come 
 
 The business of the day ; 
 And, mid the interested hum 
 Of voices, whose unceasing thrum 
 
 Reveals the happy play 
 Of feelings quite set free from care, 
 And glad hearts happy to be there 
 
 With such a gracious One — 
 'Mid this they hurry to and fro 
 For new relays that constant flow, 
 
 Fast as the need doth run. 
 And now, with all their wants relieved, 
 In some the fancy is conceived. 
 
 With quick and sudden spring, 
 That great events may be achieved, 
 And Israel's fortunes yet retrieved, 
 
 By making Jesus king. 
 
 But He, that came from highest heaven, 
 Bare no admixture of earth's leaven 
 
 In His pure, holy mind. 
 To work, but not to reign. He came ; 
 Not to be served, but suffer shame^ 
 
 The meekest of mankind. 
 66 
 
 4
 
 To do His Father's hallowed will 
 Abode His changeless purpose still, 
 
 While in this world He staid ; 
 For thoughts of God and thoughts of man, 
 Neither in working, nor in plan, 
 
 Sweet union ever made. 
 
 Perceiving where their purpose tends, 
 Jesus His twelve disciples sends 
 Before Him to the little bay, 
 To pull their boat with speed away 
 
 Toward the other shore : 
 Then, turning, bids the multitude 
 In tones full clearly understood — 
 Tones that convey commanding power — 
 Thence to depart the self- same hour. 
 
 And linger there no more. 
 
 The lonesome night arrives at last, 
 Pressing its seal of silence fast 
 On all the stir, the sound, the thought, 
 That daylight in its train had brought. 
 
 Upon the land thus left alone. 
 
 He scales the mountain's highest cone ; 
 
 Then, prostrate on the ground, 
 Ascends in spirit higher still 
 Of holy rest to drink His fill, 
 
 Where rest and peace abound. 
 67
 
 The glow of His blest Father's love, 
 The shining of His face above, 
 His joy expressed upon the sight 
 Of this, the Son of His delight, 
 Returned to find upon His breast 
 His work-worn faculties refreshed — 
 This to the weary Son of Man 
 Yields solace such as naught else can. 
 
 The ])lacid waters of the lake 
 Meanwhile a different aspect take 
 
 From that of smiling day. 
 A freshening breeze now lifts the waves, 
 Whose growing violence soon laves 
 
 The boat with blinding spray. 
 
 Mind-wearying hours successive run ; 
 The darkness settles deeper down ; 
 And angry blasts, with gathering strength, 
 Shatter in foam the heaving length 
 
 Of billows rolling by. 
 A growing sense of loneliness 
 Upon the toiling Twelve doth press, 
 Rend'ring them yet more spiritless 
 
 While still the oars they ply. 
 68
 
 Vet sure, though slow, night's leaden hours 
 On travel, though the dark still lowers 
 
 Upon the hidden sky. 
 But, ere the dawn breaks cheeringly, 
 Afar on the wild tossing sea 
 The Twelve discover tremblingly 
 
 A weird form drawing nigh. 
 
 By night's long-lasting labours worn, 
 Their weakened nerves at once are shorn 
 
 Of their remaining force ; 
 High beat their hearts in wild alarm. 
 With dread of supernatural harm 
 
 Sprung from such spectral source ; 
 And loudly rings their cry of fear, 
 As the dim figure still draws near 
 
 Towards their little boat. 
 
 As oil upon the billows thrown, 
 
 Though these be big as mountains grown, 
 
 Binds their fierce rage with peaceful zone, 
 
 Far as its ooze may float ; 
 So doth a voice of brightest cheer. 
 Soft falling on their startled ear — 
 ' Fear not ! 'tis I that now draw near ' — 
 
 Allay their terror now. 
 69
 
 'Tis Jesus ! P'rom the mountain high, 
 With tender, sympathetic eye, 
 He'd followed through the night's thick gloom 
 The laboured course, which o'er the foam 
 
 Their little ship did plough, 
 Arriving now to bring redress 
 For night's long-lasting painfulness. 
 Now borne upon the storm's wild wing, 
 Another voice is answering, 
 ' Master ! if it indeed be Thou, 
 Bid me come on the water now.' 
 ' Come !' sounds at once upon the air ; 
 And Peter, prompt to do and dare, 
 Eager to imitate his Lord, 
 Leaps from the boat upon the word ; 
 And, treading fast beneath his feet 
 The boiling surge, proceeds to meet 
 
 The Christ that gives him power. 
 The boat's remaining occupants 
 Breathless behold the incidents 
 
 Of that dramatic hour. 
 
 For, as the spray drives in his face, 
 Swept by the furious tempest's race 
 
 From the waves' curling crests, 
 His eye quick casts a frightened glance 
 Upon the mad sea's frenzied dance. 
 
 Nor more on Jesus rests ; 
 70
 
 And faith before its fury shrinks, 
 And in the seething swirl he sinks, 
 
 Crying, ' Lord, save ! I die !' 
 But, quickly clasped by Jesus' hand. 
 With Him he's safely made to stand 
 
 As on a rampart high. 
 
 Then thus the Lord—' Why didst thou doubt ? 
 So doth thy little faith run out, 
 
 With trial vanishing ?' 
 Ensconced within their little ship, 
 The restless waves fast sink to sleep. 
 The boist'rous winds strange quiet keep, 
 
 And peace spreads wide its wing. 
 And then with blissful, solemn awe, 
 Before the One that thus gives law 
 
 Alike to wind and wave, 
 The men bend low with praising heart, 
 Crying, * The Son of God Thou art ! 
 
 Thine is the power to save !' 
 
 Their advent on the other side 
 
 Is straightway by the men descried. 
 
 That have their dwelling there ; 
 And through that region round about 
 The gladsome news is quick sent out, 
 
 'Jesus Himself is here.' 
 71
 
 Then fast from loathsome fever-den, 
 
 And lazars' lonely mountain glen, 
 
 And homes whose sunshine had been clouded, 
 
 And in deep'ning darkness shrouded 
 
 'Neath the fell destroyer's wing, 
 
 Whose shade jjlasteth everything 
 
 That falleth underneath ; 
 From valley and from mountain-crest, 
 All by Satanic power opprest — 
 The lame, the sick, the blind, the dumb, 
 Leper and epileptic — come 
 
 To flee a living death. 
 
 These then their meek request prefer — 
 Request that in its heart doth bear 
 Faith's precious germ amid its meekness — 
 That, howe'er manifold their weakness. 
 They may but touch His garment's hem 
 For healing power to flow to them. 
 And so it is that ev'ry soul, 
 Who touches His blue-fringed stole. 
 Thrills with the sense of being whole. 
 
 Such is a sample of the days. 
 Filled by the blessed works and ways 
 That marked Christ's earthly ministry ; 
 And in their grace and love we see, 
 
 7.2
 
 So less than in their power and might, 
 The footsteps of the God of Light 
 
 And of the (lod of Love. 
 For whoso on His person gazed, 
 Jn Him the Father might have traced. 
 
 Unseen except above. 
 Vea, though the human form was seen 
 In all that Christ on earth had been, 
 \'et His intrinsic Deity, 
 In awe-inspiring majesty. 
 Did constantly with power prevail 
 To pierce beyond its denser vail, 
 P>liciting th' admission blest. 
 By many a human lip confest — 
 'Twas Ciod in flesh thus manifest. 
 
 73
 
 Introduction to Canto IV. 
 
 Pleasant for site, the whole earth's joy, 
 Salem might well our praise employ, 
 Glitt'ring with many a mural gem, 
 Jehovah's earthly diadem ; 
 Or, as a single diamond shining 
 Among the hills around it twining. 
 With sharply-carven facets cut 
 Deep into valleys at its foot. 
 There one's astonished vision met 
 Terrace and tower fitly set, 
 And colonnade and minaret, 
 And swelling dome full gently rising 
 Into the blue air like a cloud — 
 A wealth of architecture proud : 
 Vet varied by the apt uprising 
 Of many a palm, whose fronded crest 
 Vielded by its soft green a rest 
 To eyes by splendour else opprest. 
 Such once was its magnificence I 
 Its glory such — now vanished hence ! 
 Cione like the wonders of a dream I 
 Sunk in the past its fair light's beam ! }1 
 
 74
 
 And not again shall shine its ray, 
 Gilding the nations with its play, 
 Till from its mouth goes forth the word- 
 ' Blest be the One the heavens afford, 
 The Christ sent to us from the Lord !' 
 
 Canto IV. 
 
 A long line of the city wall 
 
 Causeth a cooling shade to fall 
 
 Upon a crowd that hurries by, 
 
 And, as it passeth, lifts the crj', 
 
 ' On to the Seer of Nazareth, 
 
 Who brought back Lazarus from death '/ 
 
 (For miracle on miracle 
 Had filled men's minds with wonder full, 
 And teachings, such as none before 
 Had uttered, poured their jirecious store 
 From treasures hid above the heaven, 
 Through human lips now purely given.) 
 
 They pass the Kedron's flowing stream 
 By one of many paths that seam 
 
 The mountain opposite, 
 And press with speed for Bethany, 
 Eager with glad expectancy 
 
 On Christ their eyes to set. 
 75
 
 Beyond th' ascent of Olivet 
 Another multitude is met, 
 Where the road's dip conceals from sight 
 Behind the mountain's labouring height 
 Moriah's golden fane. 
 
 Lowlily borne upon an ass, 
 Jesus, the Nazarene, doth pass, 
 With meek humility receiving 
 The honest praise of hearts believing. 
 Some break the branches from the trees 
 And bear them fluttering in the breeze. 
 Some in the way their garments spread. 
 Rude carpet forming for His' tread. 
 And all their glad hosannas sing, 
 To welcome Him as Zion's King. 
 
 Thus on, until in unveiled splendour, 
 Peerless in pose, unmatched in grandeur. 
 
 The city, with its towers, 
 Undimmed in beauty, clear in view. 
 Bursts on their vision — then anew 
 The whole disciples' company 
 Lift up their jubilations high, 
 
 With all their gathered powers. 
 76,
 
 He on the scene in silence gazes, 
 With eye whose ken at once embraces 
 
 Present and future too. 
 But lo ! a brow with grief opprest, 
 And laboured breath, and heaving chest, 
 And sobs that rive a troubled breast, 
 
 And tears that thickly flow. 
 
 Vet, Saviour ! Thou wast Salenrs King, 
 And 'neath Thy covering cherub-wing 
 
 Whole universes lay ; 
 Then, wherefore this strange sorrowing 
 
 Upon Thy triumph-day? 
 
 Hers is an unrepentant nation, 
 Ignorant of God's visitation. 
 The Baptist's trumpet-tones might sound, 
 His own rare teachings, too, abound ; 
 Yet do the leaders of her thought 
 Deem fit to scorn and set at naught 
 
 The wisdom from on high. 
 And, though now praise-notes charm the air, 
 Moved by the ones that chiefship bear, 
 Another crowd shall shortly dare 
 To rend the skies, the winds to scare. 
 With shouts of ' Crucify !' 
 77
 
 lie spans the gulf that intervenes 
 Betwixt this and on-coming scenes, 
 And sees with clear prophetic eye 
 Her time of agony draw nigh. 
 He views, close-prest within her wills, 
 O'er which a thickening darkness falls, 
 Her grief-struck children gathered there, 
 Not then to raise or praise or prayer, 
 But, terrorized to dumb despair, 
 
 To wait their wrathful doom — 
 Gone ev"ry hope of their salvation, 
 Their former frantic imprecation, 
 ' His blood rest ever on this nation !' 
 
 Come now with vengeance home ! 
 
 O Son of God ! eternal ages, 
 Glorious in successive stages. 
 By Thee were fashioned from of old, 
 Unfolding as a tale that's told. 
 
 Through Thine exceeding might : 
 For without Thee was nothing made ; 
 On Thee th' executive was laid 
 
 Of all the realms of light. 
 Vet, being found in manhood's guise. 
 Tears of real sorrow fill Thine eyes. 
 And sighs of sympathy arise, 
 
 For man's impending woe. 
 78
 
 Thus, then, we hear Thee sadly say, 
 ' Oh ! hadst thou known in this thy day 
 Ere quite had sunk the last pale ray 
 
 Of light now quivering low I 
 I should have sent prosperity, 
 Nor left thee to thine enemy : 
 I'd suffered not adversity 
 
 With its rough wind to blow : 
 But, as a hen its gentle wing 
 Over its offspring wide doth fling, 
 
 I would have kept thee so.' 
 
 But each stage must be travelled o'er, 
 And, though the city's doom is sure, 
 Yet to the very midst of her 
 Must come Jehovah's Messenger, 
 Lowly and meek, a gentle King — 
 Folded as yet stern Judgment's wing. 
 
 Again His praises must resound. 
 Rising within the temple's bound — 
 A sweet chime of soft infant voices. 
 At which the heart of heaven rejoices 
 Again th' afflicted and the sad 
 His healing hand must render glad. 
 Again His teachings on the ear 
 Must fall to lighten sorrow's care^ 
 Teachings that shall to mind recur, 
 When Himself shall be distant far. 
 79
 
 The stir is o'er, the tumult staid ; 
 The bright excitement fast doth fade ; 
 And hope in sanguine hearts doth cease, 
 As, with a calm and steadfast face, 
 The sky looks down emotionless ; 
 And He, as though He ne'er had been 
 The centre of such moving scene. 
 Remote from men at Bethany, 
 Waits, as His darkest hour draws nigh. 
 
 And then, with sharp and sudden shock, 
 All's changed, as when rough earthquakes rock 
 
 Some lovely paradise : 
 The soft flow of His ministry 
 Is checked, and men no more may see 
 Its course below, while history 
 
 The past alone supplies. 
 
 For, as a boat that slowly on 
 
 A smooth, but downward, course hath gone 
 
 On some broad waterway, 
 (Caught in the rapids at the last, 
 Which fast and faster hurry past,) 
 Leaps to its final plunge at length. 
 Whelmed by the cataclysm's strength, 
 
 A broken wreck to stay — 
 80
 
 So the whole nation of the Jews, 
 Moved by their rulers to refuse 
 
 God's holy, spotless One, 
 Launch upon Envy's foaming stream — 
 Sight to make good men quake, I deem- 
 But find that Passion's current strong 
 Resistless carries them, ere long, 
 O'er Ruin's precipice headlong 
 
 To gulfs full deep and dun. 
 
 The closing night at length has come, 
 The last before His passage home. 
 Where ev'ry moaning grief is dumb, 
 And ev'ry aching pain is numb — 
 The chill, the dark, the silent tomb !— 
 A few sweet words of last leave-taking, 
 Of tender love to soothe heart-breaking, 
 Of promise to work glad soul-cheering, 
 Of hope to point to glory nearing, 
 Giv'n to the few true simple men. 
 That still around Him cling— and then 
 Gethsemane's gray olive-trees 
 Witness His rising agonies. 
 As, prostrate in amazement sore, 
 He lies along the mossy floor 
 Beneath their gloomy shade. 
 
 8i c
 
 Strengthened by angel-service there 
 In stern resolve the cross to bear, 
 He lifts a brow, though scarred with care. 
 With God's calm on it staid. 
 
 Then the fell hatred of the Fiend, 
 Finding that no hand intervened 
 
 The lonely Man to screen, 
 Afflicts Him in those fateful hours 
 With the full fury of his powers. 
 
 The venom of his spleen. 
 
 His foremost trial to endure 
 
 Comes in the guise of friendship pure, 
 
 When, by a plan as curst as sure, 
 
 He's with a kiss betrayed. 
 Then, bound and led as criminal, 
 He hears in the Jews' Council Hall 
 Against Himself, the Judge of all. 
 
 False accusation laid. 
 
 With awful speed His fate's decided ; 
 With awful scorn His doom's derided. 
 Bruised, buffeted, and spit upon. 
 He stands in that dread hall alone ; 
 While council, judges, officers 
 (Swept by the passion that now stirs 
 82
 
 Their bitter hate to sudden flame,) 
 Rage like the hell-fire under them ; 
 And, 'mid the tumult risen then. 
 Resemble devils more than men. 
 
 The clear dawn of unclouded morn 
 Upsprings with beauty to adorn 
 
 The brightened Eastern sky, 
 As though none pondered anywhere, 
 In heaven, or hell, or earth, or air, 
 
 A tragedy so nigh. 
 
 Astir with morn, the Sanhedrim 
 Give orders to deliver him 
 Into the Roman Praetor's hands, 
 At whose bar presently He stands. 
 There, by accusers vilified, 
 He yet remaineth justified 
 
 In the shrewd Roman's eye ; 
 Who, hearing that from Galilee 
 He hails, conveys Him speedily 
 To Herod, glad to be thus free 
 
 From risk of penalty. 
 
 Herod's rough men set Him at naught. 
 And, clad in mock-royal robes. He's brought 
 As quickly back again. 
 83
 
 And now the tumult rises higher : 
 Fear, lest the point of their desire 
 Should not be reached, excites the fire 
 Of wrath and hate amain. 
 
 ' Give us Barabbas in Ilis stead ; 
 Number thou this Man with the dead ; 
 
 Let Him be crucified !' 
 Vain all attempt to pacify, 
 The raging mob will still reply 
 With deafening shouts of ' Crucify ! 
 
 Let Him be crucified !' 
 
 Sentence is given as they require. 
 And soon the object of their ire. 
 With recent marks of cruelty 
 Received from the rude soldiery. 
 
 Is yielded to their will. 
 But who, O Christ ! shall ever tell 
 What agonizing feelings swell 
 
 In Thy pure, holy breast. 
 As, through the streets of Thy loved city. 
 Thou passest, moving woman's pity, 
 
 With the cross on Thee prest ? 
 Or when, outstretched upon the ground, 
 In human hearts is boldness found 
 
 To nail Thee to that cross ? 
 84
 
 Or when, at last uplifted high 
 Betwixt Man's earth and God's broad sky. 
 Round Thee the Judgment-waters lie, 
 And o'er Thy spirit toss ? 
 
 Man does his worst, Satan his best, 
 From Thee Thy peace, Thy life, to wrest, 
 But, what is most upon Thee prest 
 
 Comes from Thy God on high. 
 No more His blest presence nigh ; 
 His former comforts from Thee fly ; 
 On Thee His awful frown doth lie — 
 
 Sin's dreadful penalty. 
 By Thee sin's judgment now is borne, 
 And Justice pours on Thee forlorn, 
 On Thee, crushed, broken, travail-worn, 
 
 Its full severity. 
 
 ' God ! why hast Thou forsaken Me ? 
 Why turned to be Mine enemy ? 
 
 Why from Me now so far ?' — 
 The Just is in the Unjust's room ; 
 And there, while darkening horrors loom, 
 Death is, with its heart-sickening gloom, 
 
 His sole discharge from war. 
 85^
 
 He dies !— but, dying, doth not fail — 
 He dies with shout, that doth prevail 
 To rend the Temple's mystic vail, 
 The dungeons of the grave t' assail, 
 Asserting victory. 
 
 For as seed cast in dank, dark ground 
 Seemeth a sure end to have found, 
 Yet, after days have passed, appears 
 Above its tomb, and brightly rears 
 A beauteous form not seen before, 
 That growing brancheth more and more, 
 And bears a galaxy of flowers 
 To laugh and dance in sunny hours — 
 So He, that on the cross sinks low, 
 Seemingly vanquished by a blow 
 Irrep'rable, again mounts high, 
 Nor singly, as if fruitlessly. 
 But bearing others to the sky — 
 His everlasting flowers. 
 
 Again — as storms in autumn rend. 
 And carry to inglorious end. 
 The faded glories of the wood ; 
 Yet, in a fairer garb renewed, 
 The selfsame groves in springtime stand 
 Ablaze with bloom on ev'ry hand — 
 So, although fierce Satanic power 
 Prevails to rend the Saviour sore, 
 86
 
 And sink Him to th' inglorious tomb, 
 Yet, pure with deathless, stainless bloom, 
 He rises girt with glories more 
 Than any He possessed before, 
 .Spoiling the spoiler's richest store, 
 To deck eternal bowers. 
 
 But, briefly now to sum this story, 
 
 Chequered with shadow and with glory — 
 
 It may be argued doubtingly, 
 
 What meant the angels' song so free, 
 
 Sung upon Christ's nativity, 
 
 If under sorrows so intense 
 
 His holy light were held suspense ? 
 
 Or, why such fiery forerunner, 
 Announcing God's own kingdom near, 
 If through a cross the brand of shame 
 Should be impressed on Jesus' name ? 
 
 Or, why again those signs of power, 
 Wrought in His ministry's brief hour. 
 If death and the devouring grave 
 Should quench in Him the power to save ? 
 
 They were a type, or an expression, 
 Of age and state far in precession 
 Of Israel's season soon to fade 
 Into ii dark background of shade, 
 87
 
 The angels' songs of joy declare 
 A mercy spreading wider far 
 Than Israel's pent and narrow fold, 
 Even as far as the sun hath rolled 
 His course o'er vale and mountain old. 
 
 The Baptist's labours did prepare 
 The founding of a kingdom fair, 
 Whose nobler character and tone 
 Excel those of each earthly one, 
 As heaven's magnificence exceeds 
 The glamour of earth's tawdry weeds- 
 A kingdom framed in mystery, 
 Whose glory no man yet may see. 
 Fixed only in the hearts of those 
 That upon Christ their faith repose. 
 
 And ev'ry sign and miracle, 
 Effected by the Saviour's skill 
 For the relief and apt redress 
 Of bodily infirmities, 
 Was but an indication clear 
 Of greater wonders to appear, 
 Evincing a complete control 
 O'er all the ills that strike the soul. 
 
 For shall it be that temporal need 
 May feast its full, and constant feed, 
 Upon things suited to its use 
 O'er all the range of earth diffuse.
 
 And that the soul alone shall be 
 
 Stinted of its sut^ciency ? 
 
 Or, further, that its moral ill 
 
 Shall still remain incurable ? 
 
 How fraught with failure then would be 
 
 The plans, the works, of Deity ! 
 
 How strangely too at variance 
 
 With all conspiring to enhance 
 
 Our thoughts of heavenly goodness pure, 
 
 Our sense of God's high character ! 
 
 Nay ! as already hath been shown, 
 Christ's errand here was to atone 
 
 For human guilt and sin ; 
 And by His blood of peerless price, 
 Offered for us in sacrifice, 
 
 Our lasting gain to win. 
 
 Thus, with a skill beyond our thought, 
 And at a cost transcending aught 
 
 Of our poor computation, 
 God hath devised a remedy 
 To cope with man's worst malady. 
 
 And work complete salvation. 
 
 And, though awhile a cloud may be 
 Spread o'er the bright epiphany 
 Of Christ's full kingliness, 
 89
 
 Yet, in a season nigh at hand, 
 His rule shall spread o'er every land 
 Of Earth's wide wilderness. 
 
 Mis presence shall breathe blissful rest 
 To things so long, so deep, opprest 
 
 'Neath hopeless misery ; 
 And His full majesty divine 
 In glory everywhere shall shine, 
 
 As waves now clothe the sea. 
 
 90
 
 PSALM XIX.
 
 PSALM XIX. 
 
 I STAND beneath a widely-spreading sky ; 
 The first faint flush of dawn has tinged the east ; 
 Terrestrial things increasingly appear 
 Clear to the vision. Now at length the Sun 
 Uprears his strength above the small round world, 
 And bares his orb like the famed shield that held 
 The Gorgon's head petrific centred there. 
 Yet this refulgent disc communicates 
 Not death, but life, far as its gleam extends. 
 And so the landscape broad stands forth to view, 
 Figured with wondrous and with beauteous shapes, 
 From their surroundings struck into relief, 
 Like forms embossed upon a sculptured frieze. 
 
 Yonder a mighty pine has caught the rays, 
 And stands revealed against the pale blue sky 
 Tall, dusky-plumed, like to some hero bold, 
 Whose armoured body flames with ruddy gold. 
 Hard by an oak appears, whose hundred limbs. 
 Twisted in convolutions manifold, 
 
 93
 
 Seem like the serpent-locks that horrent crowned 
 The dread Medusx. Better pleased, the eye 
 Rests on a silver birch, whose slender form, 
 And fair white rind, and drooping tresses brown. 
 At once proclaim her Nymph of all the grove. 
 
 And now the Sun, with measured steps advanced. 
 Like undefeated conqu'ror holds his march 
 Through all the regions of the open sky ; 
 And, 'mid the clouds attendant in the west, 
 Sits rich-enthroned, a sov'reign at the last. 
 Holding his court with due magnificence. 
 
 That pomp withdrawn, that kingly court dissolved. 
 Ten thousand other twinkling fires appear, 
 Piercing the ebon mantle Night draws round. 
 With their keen ray hard combating her power. 
 Some with a clear-cut orb against the dark, 
 And some with lambent flame that pulseth slow, 
 Shine luminous. Vet, from them, as they shine, 
 No sound, no voice, no uttered word, proceeds. 
 Whether the sun in solitary state, 
 Or the confed'rate splendours of the Night, 
 Silent they keep their solemn course on high. 
 Silent they pour their wealth of beams abroad. 
 "S'et do they thus more eloquently speak. 
 Than if, with sounds terrific, thunder-peals. 
 Or the soft melody of Syren songs, 
 They urged their constant progress o'er the sky. 
 
 94
 
 What, then, the witness which their presence bears ? 
 
 ' There is a God ! a mighty, wondrous God ! 
 
 Beyond us far is His supernal Throne ; 
 
 And from that secret seat He spake the word, 
 
 Which rolled (in system intricate) our spheres 
 
 Far-flashing through the depths of stainless heav'n. 
 
 And, if with glory our effulgence beam, 
 
 What His resplendent majesty, who thus 
 
 Clothed us in vestments of ethereal fire ! 
 
 And, if expressive of a power immense 
 
 The vastness of our size and motions be. 
 
 How great His might, who brought us to the birth, 
 
 And unimpaired our pristine forces keeps ! 
 
 If, too, to generations we remain 
 
 In aspect and in movement still the same, 
 
 What then the cycling ages that contain 
 
 His own unlimited eternity !' 
 
 Again, a book within my hand I hold. 
 Which from external things my mind diverts. 
 To inner sense subjected. This contains 
 The very words of Him who high unfurled 
 The heav'ns as His broad banner— graven first 
 On rocky tables from a mountain hewn, 
 But amplified in after-days by men, 
 Who were themselves grasped as the facile pen 
 Of His omnipotent, controlling hand. 
 
 95
 
 Therein I learn that He, before whose works 
 With pleasure filled, I late admiring bent. 
 Is holiness itself, from evil pure, 
 Righteous in all His ways, abhorring sin — 
 And further, that He doth assert a claim 
 To my obedience, consecration full 
 Of all my powers requiring to His will. 
 
 Amazed, I now discover in myself, 
 
 Acting in contrariety to this, 
 
 A principle that moves resistance strong 
 
 To His high government, a spring impure 
 
 That ever bubbles o'er with what He hates, 
 
 A rebel nature. O most wretched man ! 
 
 Since He and I are thus at enmity, 
 
 'Twere well to flee, and in thick darkness hide 
 
 Far from His gaze. Yet, whither shall I flee ? 
 
 And, wretched one ! how can I safely flee 
 
 From this dread God ? His greatness is my fear 
 
 His power my terror now ; His mighty works 
 
 No more a joy, but troublous cause of gloom. 
 
 Escape is none, since He, who governs all, 
 My ev'ry movement soon could circumvent. 
 Atlantic depths could never cover me ; 
 And, since the Universe is all His own. 
 The whole Creatitm is become my foe, 
 Leagued with its potent Maker 'gainst my soul. 
 
 96
 
 Drawn by a fascination strange, and urged 
 By the sharp spur of my necessity, 
 Again the Book of Judgment I explore. 
 And now words, unobserved before, appear ; 
 A milder glory from its substance shines, 
 Less like the fulminating lightning's gleam 
 Than the soft sheen of Autumn's mellow days ; 
 And from its sentences the silver sounds 
 Of mercy, and the golden tones of grace. 
 Seem to send forth delightful music sweet. 
 For, while the holy and the righteous claims 
 Of its great Author clearly are maintained, 
 Yet with the soul of tenderness inbreathed , 
 Mercy is offered, reconcilement sought, 
 ^^And pardon treated of— this, too, on ground 
 ^KThe most amazing, that of Ransom paid, 
 ^■Ransom through a Redeemer. Thus is shown 
 V That on this earth, under these very skies, 
 I Treading the rugged pathways of this world, 
 God's holy Son has walked in human flesh ; 
 Has by a subtle demon in all points 
 Been tempted like as we ; and, in the face 
 Of direst opposition from our race, 
 Has stretched beneath our pressing load of sin 
 His sacred person on a roughened cross. 
 That load thus borne, that life thus closed in death, 
 Become! the ground of pardon to each soul 
 That meekly will avail itself thereof. 
 
 97 H
 
 I yield me to this mercy ; and, forthwith, 
 
 No sweeter word fashioned for human speech 
 
 Methinks is spoken under the whole heav'n 
 
 Than this sweet word, ' Redeemer !' O Thou blest 
 
 And matchless One ! precious it is to know 
 
 That Thou so near my frailty hast arrived, 
 
 As to have travailed, sorrowed, wept, as man. 
 
 Though very Lord from heav'n. Henceforth for me 
 
 One word exists to still the storms of thought. 
 
 Allay the fever of the spirit, fill 
 
 With purest joy the lonely heart, and make 
 
 Even the lofty heaven seem like home — 
 
 * Redeemer !' — yet again, ' Redeemer ]:)]est !' 
 
 My Rock ! my Strength ! may the words of my pen, 
 The simple meditation of my heart, 
 Prove now acceptable before Thine eyes. 
 Be as the offered incense of the morn, 
 When ev'ry scent and ev'ry perfume pure 
 Ascendjfrom herb, and grass, and tree, and flower. 
 
 98
 
 NIGHT
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 THE night is mild, the hour is cahn, 
 The air as though it from Eden blew ; 
 There's a far-away look in the shining stars, 
 And a depth in the heaven's blue. 
 
 So pure, so peaceful, the sky appears, 
 
 So gently the beams of the stars invite. 
 That into such depths from the earth afar 
 The soul wills to wing its flight. 
 
 Capella shines in her chariot fair, 
 
 As she mounts in her course to the zenith's 
 height ; 
 The Pleiades float as a seabirds' flock 
 Across the fields of night. 
 
 The Bull's eye of fire hath a milder glow, 
 Tamed by soft ether's tempering power ; 
 And the aspect shown on the sky's broad brow 
 Is that of a kindly hour. 
 
 lOI
 
 And was it not on a night like this 
 
 That Al)ram forth was led abroad, 
 And bidden to look to the stars on high, 
 And, looking, to trust his God ? 
 
 To us tiiey preach in a similar strain 
 
 Of the mighty One that set them there. 
 Bidding us trust a God above 
 
 From out of a world of care. 
 
 And, as they seem to nestle in peace, 
 
 And on Night's soft bosom-depths to rest, 
 So may our souls, through the Christ that died, 
 Lean on God's loving breast. 
 
 For the God, that rules the starry sky, 
 Is the God that freely gave His Son, 
 That by such infallible proof of love 
 
 Misrht the human heart be won. 
 
 102
 
 DEVONIA SEPTENTRIONALIS.
 
 DEVONIA SEPTENTRIONALIS. 
 
 LAND of the West ! washed by wild western seas 
 I long again from boulders hard and gray, 
 Flanking thy buttressed shores, to watch the play 
 Of curving, restless waves, now bright, now dark, 
 Now in an instant changed to the dead white 
 Of snowy foam, casting a mantle pure 
 O'er stark, bare rocks — or else, full dreamily, 
 From highest point of vantage I would pore 
 On many a sail spread o'er the dull, dun sea, 
 Like ghostly shadows looming through the mist, 
 Or phantoms gliding from the unknown wastes 
 Of hidden worlds, by mortals unexplored. 
 
 Then, turning inland from the surf-fringed shore. 
 Far into blissful depths of silent woods 
 I will to wander, where the regnant peace 
 Is only broken by soft woodland sounds — 
 The sighing breeze, that stirs the mobile leaves 
 To sigh with it — the flit of timid bird 
 Through brakes, that soft restraining hands extend 
 
 105
 
 To stay its flight perturbed — the liquid tones 
 Of brooks, that pour forth their delicious songs 
 From shy recesses, where they sing retired. 
 Here on cool banks of greenest moss I'd rest, 
 To diink into the spirit of the place — 
 To ease, to soothe the mind, at times o'erwrough 
 'Mid the dry dust of city stir and strife. 
 
 E'en now on Mem'ry's tablets I survey 
 
 The spread of town and country, sea and sky, 
 
 That recompensed ihe merest glance bestowed 
 
 Without my lodging's window. I behold 
 
 The slender string of humble tenements, 
 
 Based on their narrow ledge of slaty rock 
 
 That joins two rocky, grass-grown cones of hills ; 
 
 And, close within this promontorial shield. 
 
 The tiny harbour of the fisher-folk, 
 
 Whose waters twice a day the changing tide 
 
 Withdraws, and twice a day again restores — 
 
 Without, the tumble of the restless sea. 
 
 And, as upon the jutting rocks, that stud 
 The outer coast, the waves in flashing spray 
 Are ever breaking, the whole sea appears 
 A thing of life, leaping for joy of heart, 
 Lapping the harder element in play, 
 And casting on its gloom in merriment 
 
 io6
 
 The gleam of sunny smiles. Further away 
 CHff frowns on cliff, with indentations deep, 
 Furrowed ^nd scored by windy storm above, 
 And crenulate by the corrosive force 
 Of waves that beat below. Beyond, the main 
 Spreads to its faint horizon far away. 
 
 And here that Poet, who so sweetly sang 
 
 Of heav'n and home as kindred points of rest. 
 
 Might find new illustration for his thought — 
 
 The lowly fisher-huts along the shore, 
 
 With boats in front caparisoned in full. 
 
 Reveal where all of daily wants arise, 
 
 And the rough toil whereby these are subdued. 
 
 Outstretching to a distance dim and gray 
 
 The ocean wide extends, and solemnly 
 
 Suggests grave thoughts of deep eternal things, 
 
 Prompting the question, weightiest of all^ 
 
 ' When earth's low shore is left, ah ! whither then 
 
 Shall the soul's bark be bound?' For low the shore 
 
 Assuredly must be, whence all must launch 
 
 Upon eternal waves, however high 
 
 The haughty cliff", whereon in pride of show 
 
 Their former station was. 
 
 Thus sweet it is 
 To find on earth, far as our feet may roam. 
 Places where love, affection, patience, peace, 
 
 107
 
 May shed abroad their mild and soothing beams 
 Within what bears the hallowed name of Home. 
 And well it is to be reminded, too, 
 That from the tiny beach, whereon now rest 
 Our souls' frail barks, there spreads, awaiting us, 
 Eternity's vast ocean, measureless. 
 
 io8
 
 ETERNITY.
 
 ETERNITY. 
 
 ETERNITY! Low be the breath, 
 That names the word in a land of death. 
 Oh ! what may mean, oh ! what can be, 
 The untried waves of its unknown sea? 
 
 Solemnly falls upon the ear 
 Of stoutest hearts abiding here 
 The beat of wild surf upon earthly strand, 
 The moan of vast waters on every hand. 
 'Tis an ocean, which stretches far into the dark, 
 On whose dread billows the human bark 
 Must launch away, for ever sailing 
 Without one hope of return availing — 
 An ocean which knows none other shore 
 Than the one we leave to behold no more. 
 The prow, that dips in its sullen tide. 
 Must wander far and must wander wide ; 
 Must travel on in ceaseless motion, 
 Seeking the bounds of a boundless ocean ; 
 And, though th' expanse be limitless, 
 Must urge its endeavour none the less. 
 Ill
 
 To eyes that look forth wistfully, 
 On a dreary stretch of sky and sea, 
 Dread seem the watery hills and hollows, 
 As wave after wave each other follows. 
 Faint grows the heart, and dim the eyes, 
 And painful wails of despair arise. 
 As the hopelessness of the task appears, 
 And the end of the travail never nears. 
 
 Yet not for all of this darkening earth 
 
 Doth eternity unto despair give birth ; 
 
 Nor is it an ocean without a strand — 
 
 A watery waste devoid of land. 
 
 It is (if I may so declare, 
 
 And heaven the image of earth may bear,) 
 
 As though one did sail, with his course set free. 
 
 For the blessed isles of Felicity, 
 
 Where are blissful mountains, and tranquil strands, 
 
 And quiet coves edged with golden sands. 
 
 And shadowing woods full of dreamy rest, 
 
 Where simple doves build a peaceful nest. 
 
 A thousand sights delight the eyes 
 In such a natural paradise — 
 The constant smile of a summer sea. 
 Whose ripples dance on untiringly ; 
 
 112
 
 The varied richness of landscapes fair, 
 And the lesser forms of beauty there ; 
 The beauty of flowers, and of leafy trees, 
 And of graceful dells yielding shaded ease. 
 
 Sweet sounds, as well, delight the ear- 
 Softened by distance, from afar 
 The roar of the waterfall sounding hoarse, 
 As adown rough rocks it hurls its force ; 
 The shriller music of nearer rills 
 Draining the moisture from the hills ; 
 The warble of brooks, with their mellower tone. 
 As they tumble o'er shingle, and sand, and 
 
 stone — 
 These, as their cadences harmonize. 
 The listening sense gently tranquillize. 
 Soft airs come laden with each sweet smell, 
 Breathed forth from forest, and field, and fell, 
 And from fragrant meads, and from banks of 
 
 flowers, 
 Where the labouring bee gains her honeyed sores. 
 
 And numberless other joys beside. 
 
 On rocky hill and by riverside, 
 
 Delight the ear, the eye, the feeling, 
 
 To Time's worst wounds aff"ording healing, 
 
 IT3 1
 
 Bui yet no earthly paradise 
 
 Awaits the saved in any wise ; 
 
 For not the chief of such pure pleasure. 
 
 Nor its full sum, exceeding measure, 
 
 Can equal a joy far more intense, 
 
 Which cloys not the taste, neither palls on the 
 sense — 
 
 A joy that beams from the sky above 
 
 In a Father's smile and a Saviour's love. 
 
 'Tis the i)resence of God fills the happy place ; 
 
 Its colonists drink of His rivers of grace. 
 
 Jesus is there, blest Son of God ! 
 Who once earth's roughest pathway trod — 
 Cradled in utter lowliness, 
 In manhood cast forth shelterless, 
 Who in those days of straitness sore, 
 What time a servant's form He bore. 
 Daily men's contradiction bore ; 
 Nor of such conflict found surcease, 
 Till by the cross was brought release. 
 Tesus is there, whose holy soul 
 Abhorred the thraldom and control. 
 Whereby our whole humanity 
 Lay captive to an enemy- 
 Jesus, whose love nor man nor devil 
 Could alienate with all their evil ; 
 Whose feelings yet oft found relief 
 In bitter tears and cries of grief— 
 114 

 
 Jesus, whose very blood was given 
 To fit unlovely souls for heaven. 
 
 For up the self-same stairway high, 
 That dreaming Jacob did espy. 
 Trod by the feet of angels bright, 
 On service pure from realms of light. 
 To Zion's hill the blest arise, 
 And shout their anthems in the skies. 
 There, stirred by love's divine emotion. 
 They manifest their deep devotion 
 To Him, who guarded them so surely, 
 Who toiled so hard, and loved so purely. 
 And, so ascending, the bright throng 
 Thus break forth into joyous song : 
 
 Joy and delight our souls are onward bringing ; 
 Before our radiant, happy bands 
 The waving forest claps its hands ; 
 
 The hills and mountains break forth into singing ; 
 From stately cliff and precipice. 
 From awful depth and wild abyss, 
 
 The answering echoes loud and clear are ringing. 
 
 The ransomed of the Lord shall ever spread 
 The glories of their worthy King, 
 And in the height of Zion sing. 
 
 With everlasting joy upon the head. 
 "5
 
 Thrice welcome, glad eternal day ! 
 Sorrow's deep sighs are fled away, 
 And Death himself for evermore is dead. 
 
 Vender's the gracious Author of our bliss — 
 Jesus, the one of lowly heart, 
 Whom nothing high nor low could part 
 
 From poorest, feeblest, basest ones of His. 
 He sought us in sin's wilderness, 
 And on our tear-stained cheeks did press 
 
 Love's pure, forgiving, reconciling kiss. 
 
 Our hearts are flowing now with gratitude : 
 
 We'll gaze with joy on Jesus' face ; 
 
 We'll wonder at His depths of grace ; 
 For now there meets us all its plenitude. 
 
 His life-blood cleansed away our sin ; 
 
 His power securely brought us in 
 From outer darkness of hell's solitude. 
 
 Arrived upon the spreading sea. 
 That fronts the throne of Deity, 
 With awe, with reverence, they bow 
 In presence of God's glory now. 
 And realize, with strange delight, 
 That they are in their Maker's sight. 
 Deep burns within their inmost hearts 
 An instinct, that with speed imparts 
 ii6
 
 Power to their lips, in one sweet Name 
 
 Of ' Father,' to express the same. 
 
 And, as an autumn gale first stirs 
 
 The silent leaves to low murmurs, 
 
 But roars with tempest-strength at last, 
 
 As bends each bough before the blast, 
 
 Then into silence dies as fast ; 
 
 So ' Father ' breathes through all the host, 
 
 Swelling in sound like surges tost, 
 
 At length in far-oft" whispers lost. 
 
 Exulting, then, again they raise 
 The thunders of their psalm of i)raise — 
 Thunders, whose echoes roll afar 
 To deepest hell, to furthest star. 
 To utmost height of the canopy. 
 Spread by the firmament on high. 
 
 And now there further meets their sight 
 An object of supreme delight- 
 Jesus, besides, is on the throne. 
 In brightness of God's glory shown ; 
 And thence His radiant eye is bent 
 With sweet complacence on each saint. 
 Meekness, and majesty, and grace 
 Shine blended on that wondrous face ; 
 Love fills His eye, while joy intense 
 Illumines His whole countenance ; 
 117
 
 His lips, like flowers that drop with myrrh, 
 Utter words grateful to the ear ; 
 And untold graces more present 
 A Being of all sweets yblent — 
 Love's own complete embodiment. 
 
 In grace, that all their thoughts transcends. 
 From that bright throne He swift descends ; 
 And, with affection infinite. 
 Hastens His ransomed ones to greet. 
 ' Brethren !' He's not ashamed to call 
 These rescued ones of Adam's fall ; 
 Nor yet to lead, with transports high, 
 The songs of their blest minstrelsy. 
 
 Then, as a Shepherd leads his flock 
 By meadows green or shady rock, 
 To living waters He doth guide 
 These new companions of His side ; 
 And, where the Tree of Life doth spread 
 Its golden fruitage overhead, 
 There causeth them to take their rest ; 
 There blesseth them, and they are blest ; 
 There, with a love unspeakable, 
 Filleth their cup of pleasure full. 
 And owns the sweet necessity 
 Himself had, thus to multiply 
 Bliss for His own eternity. 
 ii8
 
 A STORMY DAY.
 
 A STORMY DA Y. 
 
 THE Lord is in the storm as in the cahn : 
 God is the God of Power as well as Peace : 
 Honoured alike by cataract's sounding psalm 
 
 And by still lake, wherein such psalm doth cease. 
 
 The stormy wind as well fulfils His word, 
 
 When speeding on, full-voiced, in furious haste, 
 
 As when in Galilee the self-same Lord 
 
 Stilled with a word its haste to tranquil rest. 
 
 All things His will do serve or glory show — 
 
 The mere's calm sleep, the torrent's blust'ring 
 course ; 
 
 Summer's green leaf and winter's blinding snow ; 
 Spring's gentle airs, the wrathful whirlwind's force. 
 
 121
 
 Yet, O Creation's Lord ! that season haste, 
 
 When earthly storms their fury shall have spent. 
 
 And interchange of joy and grief have ceased, 
 And changeless peace in room thereof be sent. 
 
 Hasten the glad eternity to come. 
 The advent of the Holy, Peaceful One — 
 
 Rest for unrest, for pilgrim-paths a home, 
 For long-spent toil eternal Sabbath won.
 
 LIGHT.
 
 LIGHT. 
 IGHT ! how blest a visitant to earth thou art ! 
 
 L 
 
 Bathing earth's mouldering walls with glory ; 
 Tingeing with flame the mountains hoary ; 
 Gilding the leaves, as they pendulous swing, 
 Fanned by the breeze's passing wing ; 
 Causing dark points, that in shade did lie, 
 To gleam like the stars as they hang on high ; 
 Coming to all things, the great and the small, 
 The low-pitched hut and the high-towered hall. 
 
 Creature divine ! like Love thou art, 
 Visiting all with impartial heart — 
 The tiniest leaf and the loftiest tree ; 
 Wee flowers that peep the sky to see ; 
 Broad-visaged lakes and weed-spread ponds ; 
 Earth's muddy substance, spring's verdant fronds. 
 Joy and delight from thy wings are shaken, 
 And songs from earth in answer waken. 
 In very truth thou art likest Love, 
 Having, like Love, thy home above ; 
 125
 
 And, as a crowd of sins Love covers, 
 O'er forms uncouth thy presence hovers, 
 Spreading o'er their deformity 
 A fairy-like mantle dropped from the sky, 
 In which arrayed rude landscapes wild 
 Are softened to an aspect mild. 
 
 Like to a sheaf of arrows keen, 
 
 Or like a flowing auburn river, 
 Or like to radiant angels seen, 
 
 With shining wings that gleam and quiver, 
 Thine ever-brilliant aspect is 
 Thou Gift of gifts from the God of bliss ! 
 Thine arrows keen disperse the dark ; 
 
 Thy stream's transmuting alchemy 
 Turns all to gold, like the fabled touch 
 
 Of the king of old mythology ; 
 Thy kisses wake the flowers that lie. 
 
 Drenched by the dews of darkness chill, 
 As the fan of angels' wings revive 
 
 Those that are steeped in care and ill. 
 
 Factor supreme in God's creation ! 
 
 Best part thereof, and image bright 
 Of Him, who sheds thee on each nation — 
 
 His emblem, who Himself is Light ! 
 Let Darkness flinch before thee and turn pale 
 With rosy hue of joy, I bid thee. Hail ! 
 126
 
 NATURE AND REVELATION.
 
 NATURE AND REVELATION. 
 
 Nature ! 
 With all thy changeful moods, thy varied scenes, 
 Thy diverse forms, thou art a book of God, 
 Upon whose page, in image beautiful 
 Or symbol apt, are wondrously set forth 
 A portion of the wise and loving ways 
 Of Him who made thee. Nor of Him alone 
 Dost thou relate, but of His creature, Man — 
 Of his low origin, his earthly course, 
 His destiny. Figure and parable 
 Thou pleasingly dost multiply, to teach 
 The Upright wisdom and the Thoughtful truth. 
 
 O Nature ! in thee hath my spirit joyed ; 
 Thy many voices evermore have waked 
 Responsive echoes in my bosom's depths ; 
 Thy thousand-stringed harp hath thrilled my soul, 
 Oft as I've heard its music ; thy skilled hand 
 Hath swept my being's chords with ecstasy, 
 To passion quickened, or eke soothed to calm. 
 129 K
 
 Oft have I lain on heather-couch, while winds, 
 
 Tenderly sighing, over me have passed. 
 
 Wild wand'rers over wastes untenanted. 
 
 Invaders even of my solitude. 
 
 Oft from the top of craggy rock I've gazed 
 
 Into the blue depths of some wooded vale, 
 
 Or viewed the dreamy mists enveloping 
 
 The distant hills as with a tinted veil, 
 
 Through which their forms were scarce discernible ; 
 
 And th' indistinctness of their aspect moved 
 
 My soul with longings straightway to explore 
 
 Beyond their confines ; as though there were aught 
 
 In the broad earth ; that quite could satisfy 
 
 The cravings infinite of deathless souls. 
 
 Oft, when the outline of th' impurpled hills 
 
 Showed sharp and clear against the ev'ning sky, 
 
 Whose low horizon gleamed with fairy hue 
 
 Of primrose or of daffodil, and seemed 
 
 But as a rent betwixt the hilly ridge 
 
 And a broad mass of purple clouds that stretched 
 
 Up to the zenith — often, as I've gazed 
 
 Into such far-off skyey depths, I've felt 
 
 The Psalmist's yearning wish within me rise, 
 
 ' Oh ! that I had the wings of silver dove. 
 
 Then would I flee away — from earth would flee — 
 
 And be at rest.' 
 
 130
 
 Earth, seamed with valleys, fretted with ravines 
 (That sever between mountains which encrust 
 Its surface,) or else broadened into plains. 
 Mantled with woods or studded o'er with flowers. 
 Speaks variously of its chief tenant, Man — 
 The sky, of God alone, and heaven His home. 
 The glory of terrestrial things is one ; 
 Another glory things celestial have. 
 
 Of Love, that essence of the Deity, 
 
 The blue expanse of heaven chiefly tells — 
 
 Brightly transparent, and yet fathomless ; 
 
 Immense, yet leaning with so light a weight 
 
 Upon the solid earth as not to bruise 
 
 A single fragile flower ; impalpable, 
 
 Yet folding all things in its soft embrace. 
 
 God's love is such that nothing is too high. 
 Nor aught too low, for its encircling folds ; 
 P'or as from the sky's depths drop down the dews. 
 That fill th' enamelled cups of thirsty flowers. 
 And as from clouds oft spread upon its face 
 Descend the raindrops on the parched earth 
 To give the sower seed, the hungry bread ; 
 So doth the love of God stoop low to shed 
 Its mercy on repentant sinners' heads, 
 And make them raise a brightened face on high. 
 131
 
 As, too, the firmament above maintains 
 Orb upon orb of radiant brilliancy 
 Upon its bosom, so doth love Divine 
 Sustain in higher spheres and nobler realms 
 Angelic essences and spirits blest. 
 
 Vet, Nature I with thy glowing pictures all, 
 
 Thy fascinating types, thy wisdom's store, 
 
 So richly spread upon thine ample page, 
 
 'Twere vain to search thy volume through and 
 
 through 
 For antidote against th' envenomed sting 
 Of sin, that curse of man. That is the cause 
 Which fires his blood with fev'rish restlessness, 
 Afflicts with guilt his conscience, hurries him. 
 Pallid and awestruck, hopeless, in despair. 
 From scenes of living pleasure to the grave. 
 
 Through all the realm of Nature is not found 
 A hope, a hint, of sweet deliverance. 
 Earth's deepest places say, * 'Tis not in me.' 
 The restless sea proclaims, ' 'Tis not with me.' 
 From eye of all things living it is hid, 
 Nor found where eagles scream or vultures soar. 
 To sink into the grave is not to find, 
 Nor even to exhaust Abaddon's woes. 
 132
 
 Jehovah's teaching fully perfect is, 
 Converting wand'ring souls ; His statutes right, 
 The heart rejoicing with their excellence ; 
 His testimonies sure, and making wise 
 Unto a full salvation simple souls. 
 
 The remedy for human ills is found 
 In yet another Book, the Word of Gcd, 
 Those counsels of His heart to us revealed. 
 Blest oracles of mercy and of love ! 
 
 And what the remedy ? Attend, O heavens ! 
 Listen, thou wond'ring earth ! and hear, ye deaf ! 
 In human form the Son of that blest God 
 Received into His person here on earth 
 Sin's dreadful sting, drew all its poison out. 
 Then sank in death — His bloody death the cure ! 
 Himself the sacrifice to work the cure ! 
 
 Now in the hands of Faith God's Word hath placed 
 A telescope, through which is seen the One, 
 That thus did die, raised from the dead and set 
 On the right hand of Majesty on high ; 
 And, being man. His presence there is pledge 
 That all, who trust His death's reviving power. 
 Shall follow Him above. In that new state 
 Man shall be clothed with glory ; under him 
 All other works of God shall subject lie. 
 133
 
 No more the seeds of sin shall germinate, 
 Nor yet corruption's taint in him be found. 
 He shall have scope for all his ample powers, 
 And the eternal life, that's life indeed, 
 Shall be his prized possession. Fellowship 
 With God and knowledge of the Holy One 
 Shall furnish all his spirit needs, and stay 
 His former restlessness for evermore. 
 
 Nature ! 'tis sweet thy works to contemplate. 
 
 But in the broad pure mirror of God's Word 
 
 Yet nobler works reflected I perceive, 
 
 And glories that all other far excel. 
 
 I see the gleam of starry promises, 
 
 Assuring man of possibilities 
 
 Exceeding ev'ry thought, and wish, and dream, 
 
 He may have had upon the world below. 
 
 So, while upon thy page I still may pore, 
 
 And drink sweet pleasure-draughts from thy pure 
 
 fount. 
 Yet shall my love and chief desire be fixed, 
 And my most earnest meditation staid, 
 On God's blest revelation sent from heav'n. 
 
 134
 
 A SUMMER NOON
 
 A SUMMER NOON. 
 
 THE smoke hangs furled about the towers ; 
 The landscape sleeps beneath the eye : 
 Carven in calm, far-distant bowers 
 Stand motionless against the sky. 
 
 Only the quivering summer haze, 
 
 That trembles o'er the new-mown lea, 
 
 Hath dreamy motion in the blaze 
 From heaven pouring silently. 
 
 Only at times a single bird 
 
 Wavers in flight athwart the sheen ; 
 
 Only at times a sigh is heard 
 
 Stealing the quiet leaves between. 
 
 Perfect the calm of yonder hills. 
 Peace breathing to the sky above ; 
 
 With perfect calm the sky o'erfills, 
 And peace reflects in answ'ring love. 
 137
 
 Perfect the calm within my breast, 
 
 My Priest, as I remember Thee, 
 In Love's attractive graces drest, 
 
 High-Priest through heav'n's eternity. 
 
 Perfect the work Thou hast to plead ; 
 
 And since for it Thy life was giv'n, 
 Thine is the right to intercede, 
 
 vSole Daysman Thou 'twixt earth and heav'n. 
 
 Thou art the Sun of moral skies ; 
 
 Thy warmth of love, Thy strength of grace, 
 PVom ev'ry heart, that subject lies. 
 
 Tumult and tossing widely chase ; 
 
 And yield a calm that naught may break. 
 
 Presage of fuller peace to be, 
 When we in Thy full light awake 
 
 To heav'n's unmarred tranquillity. 
 
 Elliot Stock, Paternoster Row, London. 
 
 ^K.
 
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 date stamped below. 
 
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