 | The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery |  |
THE GATES OF LIFE.
“Wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth
to destruction ------ strait is the gate and narrow is
the way that leadeth unto life.”—Matt. vii. 13, 14.
Grief, more than revelation tells,
Shaded The Lord of Glory's heart,
Where slept within its aching cells
Deep woes no earth-breathed words impart;
Pure is the Bible, and a perfect book,—
But Christ had depths where Language could not look!
Shaded The Lord of Glory's heart,
Where slept within its aching cells
Deep woes no earth-breathed words impart;
Pure is the Bible, and a perfect book,—
But Christ had depths where Language could not look!
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All echoless by worded sign
Some buried pangs there must have been;
And saint, nor angel can divine
What pass'd behind that mental screen
Where in dread myst'ry, voiceless, lone, and deep,
Pale thoughts of Christ did o'er man's future weep.
Some buried pangs there must have been;
And saint, nor angel can divine
What pass'd behind that mental screen
Where in dread myst'ry, voiceless, lone, and deep,
Pale thoughts of Christ did o'er man's future weep.
Tongue cannot speak, nor soul conceive
The gloom which blacken'd o'er His mind,
When thoughts prophetic bade him grieve
O'er sinful wrecks of sad mankind;
Sorrow like this might soften hearts of stone,
But, ah! how infinite His pangs unknown!
The gloom which blacken'd o'er His mind,
When thoughts prophetic bade him grieve
O'er sinful wrecks of sad mankind;
Sorrow like this might soften hearts of stone,
But, ah! how infinite His pangs unknown!
For each lost soul the bloody sweat
And crimson tide of anguish flow'd,
And in His righteous spirit met
All penal claims to justice owed,
For sins beyond what mortal numbers count,—
So vast the myriads of their vile amount!
And crimson tide of anguish flow'd,
And in His righteous spirit met
All penal claims to justice owed,
For sins beyond what mortal numbers count,—
So vast the myriads of their vile amount!
But more He felt, who bled for man,
When from His cross uprear'd on earth
His Prescience saw that sacred plan
By angels deem'd of priceless worth,
Attract but “few,” for whom His Mercy died,
To bear the cross, and love the Crucified.
When from His cross uprear'd on earth
His Prescience saw that sacred plan
By angels deem'd of priceless worth,
Attract but “few,” for whom His Mercy died,
To bear the cross, and love the Crucified.
Of all dark burdens which oppress
And crush warm spirits into woe,
Ingratitude from those we bless
Outweighs the direst hearts can know;
Fiends may abhor, but never can betray
The Souls which trust, and for them toil and pray.
And crush warm spirits into woe,
Ingratitude from those we bless
Outweighs the direst hearts can know;
Fiends may abhor, but never can betray
The Souls which trust, and for them toil and pray.
But how did uncreated Love
A sacrifice divine achieve!
When God emerged from light above,
Around His awful head to weave
A thorny crown, this forfeit-world to save,
And roll'd thick darkness from the hideous grave.
A sacrifice divine achieve!
When God emerged from light above,
Around His awful head to weave
A thorny crown, this forfeit-world to save,
And roll'd thick darkness from the hideous grave.
Yet, when the unborn Ages rose
Before Him, in His parting breath,
And He beheld what creedless foes
Would still deny His priestly death,
A deeper sadness must have pierced His heart,
Than all which sacrificial pangs impart.
Before Him, in His parting breath,
And He beheld what creedless foes
Would still deny His priestly death,
A deeper sadness must have pierced His heart,
Than all which sacrificial pangs impart.
Two paths He saw, two gates appear'd,
Contracted one, the other wide;
Along the last, unfelt, unfear'd,
What myriads rush'd, for whom He died!—
Broad as their wills, and wild as Passion's law
The way of ruin which for them He saw.
Contracted one, the other wide;
Along the last, unfelt, unfear'd,
What myriads rush'd, for whom He died!—
Broad as their wills, and wild as Passion's law
The way of ruin which for them He saw.
But o'er that strict and narrow way
So wisely hemm'd by holy Truth,
He mark'd a sainted number stray,
Faithful as few, to age from youth;
Such are the souls, who count this World no loss
When they have nail'd it to th' atoning cross.
So wisely hemm'd by holy Truth,
He mark'd a sainted number stray,
Faithful as few, to age from youth;
Such are the souls, who count this World no loss
When they have nail'd it to th' atoning cross.
So is it now, to saints who read
The moral scenes of tempted man,
By that pure light blest angels need
Before they learn the mystic plan,
Whereby the wisdom of God's secret Will
Winds its clear way through vice, and virtue still,
The moral scenes of tempted man,
By that pure light blest angels need
Before they learn the mystic plan,
Whereby the wisdom of God's secret Will
Winds its clear way through vice, and virtue still,
Ambition's fretting pride of thought,
The Hero's falsely-worshipp'd fame,
With all that mock Renown hath wrought
To gild the nothing of a name,—
Are baseless dreams, unsanctified and vile,
And only blast the victims they beguile.
The Hero's falsely-worshipp'd fame,
With all that mock Renown hath wrought
To gild the nothing of a name,—
Are baseless dreams, unsanctified and vile,
And only blast the victims they beguile.
Learning, and Art, and lofty Mind,
Unless beneath the Cross they grow,
Prove but mere forms of Self refined,
Whose “broad way” leads to final woe;
Sin changes not, howe'er by spells array'd,
And out of Christ, what are we, but betray'd?
Unless beneath the Cross they grow,
Prove but mere forms of Self refined,
Whose “broad way” leads to final woe;
Sin changes not, howe'er by spells array'd,
And out of Christ, what are we, but betray'd?
“Broad is the way,”—oh, crushing thought!
Which must have made Emmanuel sigh,
To see the Soul His anguish bought
But live to sin, and love to die,—
Enter the “wide gate” with a maniac glee,
And quench bad mirth in glooms of agony!
Which must have made Emmanuel sigh,
To see the Soul His anguish bought
But live to sin, and love to die,—
Enter the “wide gate” with a maniac glee,
And quench bad mirth in glooms of agony!
“Narrow the path,”—but, yet it leads
To Life's consummate goal of bliss;
And though their self-denial bleeds,
Children of light will enter this;
Though few in number, round their heavenward ways
Hover the glorious Dead of elder days.
To Life's consummate goal of bliss;
And though their self-denial bleeds,
Children of light will enter this;
Though few in number, round their heavenward ways
Hover the glorious Dead of elder days.
O'er such high path decreed by God,
Led by The Spirit, let me roam;
For where my Saviour's feet have trod
Bright footprints point me to His home,—
That City clothed with more than crystal rays,
Her gates salvation, and whose walls are praise.
Led by The Spirit, let me roam;
For where my Saviour's feet have trod
Bright footprints point me to His home,—
That City clothed with more than crystal rays,
Her gates salvation, and whose walls are praise.
Patriarch and prophet, priest and saint,
Denial's road to heaven preferr'd;
And when their sunken hearts grew faint,
They listen'd for that living Word
Which warbled round them in the deepest night,
“My yoke is easy, and my burden light!”
Denial's road to heaven preferr'd;
And when their sunken hearts grew faint,
They listen'd for that living Word
Which warbled round them in the deepest night,
“My yoke is easy, and my burden light!”
| The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery | |