University of Virginia Library

THE CHRONICLE OF ANGELS.

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The following Poem having been suggested by the perusal of a manuscript treatise on “The Holy Angels,” by the Author's late highly esteemed friend, R. C. Brackenbury, of Raithby, is most respectfully inscribed to Mrs. Brackenbury.

I. Part I.

All that of angels God to man makes known,
Here by the light of his clear word is shown.
'Tis Jacob's dream;—behold the ladder rise,
Resting on earth, but reaching to the skies,
Where faith the radiant hierarchies may trace
Abroad in nature, providence, and grace,
Descending and returning by that path,
On embassies of mercy or of wrath;
Here the stone pillow and the desert-sod
Become the gate of heaven, the house of God;
—Put off thy shoes, approach with awe profound,
The place on which thou stand'st is holy ground.
Spirit made perfect, spirit of the just!
Thy hand which traced these leaves is fall'n to dust,
Yet, in the visions of eternity,
Things unconceiv'd by mortals thou canst see,
—Angels as angels stand before the throne,
By thee are without veil or symbol known:
Oh! couldst thou add one brilliant page, and tell
What those pure beings are who never fell,
—Those first-born sons of God, ere time began,
Though elder, greater, not more loved than man,
Thrones, principalities, dominions, powers,
Cherub or seraph, midst empyreal bowers,
Who in themselves their Maker only see,
And live, and move, and dwell in Deity:
—But 'tis forbidden;—earthly eye nor ear
Heaven's splendours may behold, heaven's secrets hear;
To flesh and blood that world to come is seal'd,
Or but in hieroglyphic shades reveal'd.
We follow thee, bless'd saint! our tongues, ere long,
May learn from thine the church triumphant's song;
For well, I ween, thy minstrel soul of fire
Can compass all the notes of Raphael's lyre;
—That soul, which once, beneath the body's cloud,
Sang like an unseen sky-lark, sweet and loud;
Louder and sweeter now thy raptures rise,
Where cloud nor sun are seen in purer skies,

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But what of angels know we?—search that book
On which the eyes of angels love to look,
Desiring, through its opening seals, to trace
The heights and depths of that transcendent grace,
Which from the Father's bosom sent the Son,
Himself the ransom for a world undone.
First, with the morning stars when nature sprang,
These sons of God for joy together sang;
Diviner wonders day by day explored,
Night after night with deeper awe adored;
Till, o'er his finish'd work, Jehovah placed
Man, with the stamp of His own image graced:
Even angels paused a moment then to gaze,
Ere burst from all their choirs such shouts of praise,
As not in heaven at their own birth were known,
Nor heard when Satan's host were overthrown.
When man lost Eden for his first offence,
The swords of cherubim expell'd him thence,
Those flaming signs of heaven with earth at strife
Turn'd every way to guard the tree of life.
Angels, thenceforth, who in God's presence stand,
As ministering spirits, travel sea and land;
Onward or upward, rapt through air and sky,
From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven they fly;
Like rays diverging from the central sun,
Which through the darkness of creation run,
Enlightening moons and planets in their course,
And thence reflected seek their glorious source.

II. Part II.

When Abraham dwelt in Mamre, angels spoke,
As friend to friend, with him beneath the oak:
With flocks and herds, with wealth and servants blest,
Of almost more than heart could wish possest,
One want the old man felt,—an hopeless one!
Oh! what was all he had without a son?
Heaven's messengers brought tidings to his ear,
Which nature, dead in him, found hard to hear;
Which faith itself could scarce receive for joy,
But he believed,—and soon embraced a boy;
Nor, while the line of Adam shall extend,
Will faithful Abraham's promised issue end.
Hence, when his lifted arm the death-stroke aim'd
At him, whom God mysteriously reclaim'd,
At him, whom God miraculously gave,
An angel cried from heaven the youth to save,
And he who found a son when he believed,
That son again as from the dead received.
When Hagar, woe-begone and desolate,
Alone, beside the desert-fountain sate,
And o'er her unborn babe shed bitter tears,
The angel of the Lord allay'd her fears,
And pledged in fee to her unportion'd child
The lion's range o'er Araby the wild:
“Here have I look'd for Him whom none can see!”
She cried;—“and found, for thou, God, seest me!”
—Again, when fainting in the wilderness,
An angel-watcher pitied her distress,
To Ishmael's lips a hidden well unseal'd,
And the long wanderings of his race reveal'd,
Who still, as hunters, warriors, spoilers, roam,
Their steeds their riches, sands and sky their home.
Angels o'erthrew the cities of the plain,
With fire and brimstone in tempestuous rain,
And from the wrath which heartless sinners braved,
Lot, with the violence of mercy, saved;
Now where the region breathed with life before,
Stands a dead sea where life can breathe no more.
When Jacob, journeying with his feeble bands,
Trembled to fall into a brother's hands;
At twilight, lingering in the rear he saw
God's host around his tents their 'campment draw:
—While, with a stranger, in mysterious strife,
Wrestling till break of day for more than life;
He pray'd, he wept, he cried in his distress,
“I will not let thee go except thou bless!”
Lame with a touch, he halted on his thigh,
Yet like a prince had power with God Most High.
Nine plagues in vain had smitten Pharaoh's land
Ere the destroying angel stretch'd his hand,
Whose sword, wide flashing through Egyptian gloom,
Lighted and struck their first-born to the tomb;
Through all the realm a cry at midnight spread,
For not a house was found without one dead.
When Balaam, blinded by the lure of gold
To curse whom God would bless, his heart had sold,
A wrathful angel, with high-brandish'd blade,
Invisible to him, his progress stay'd,

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Nor, till with human voice his own dumb ass
Rebuked the prophet's madness, let him pass.
When Joshua led the tribes o'er Jordan's flood,
The captain of God's host before him stood,
He fell, and own'd, adoring on his face,
A Power whose presence sanctified the place.
When Deborah from beneath her palm-tree rose,
God into woman's hands sold Israel's foes;
They fought from heaven,—'twas heaven deliverance wrought,
Stars in their courses against Sisera fought.
They sinn'd again, and fell beneath the yoke;
To Gideon then their guardian angel spoke:
Three hundred warriors chosen at the brook,
Pitchers for arms, with lamps and trumpets, took;
They brake the vessels, raised the lights, and blew
A blast which Midian's startled hosts o'erthrew;
Foe fell on foe, and friend his friend assail'd;
—The sword of God and Gideon thus prevail'd.
When David's heart was lifted up with pride,
And more on multitudes than God relied,
Three days, an angel arm'd with pestilence
Smote down the people for the king's offence;
Yet when his humbled soul for Israel pray'd,
Heaven heard his groaning, and the plague was stay'd;
He kneel'd between the living and the dead,
Even as the sword came down o'er Zion's head;
Then went the' Almighty's voice throughout the land,
“It is enough; avenger! rest thine hand.”
Elijah, with his mantle, smote the flood,
And Jordan's hastening waves divided stood;
The fiery chariot, on the further shore,
Deathless to heaven the' ascending prophet bore:
“My father!” cried Elisha, as he flew;
“Lo! Israel's chariot and his horsemen too:”
Then with the mantle, as it dropp'd behind,
Came down a power, like mighty rushing wind,
And as he wrapt the trophy round his breast,
Elijah's spirit Elisha's soul possess'd.
—He, when the Syrian bands, as with a net
Of living links, close drawn, his home beset,
Pray'd,—and his trembling servant saw amazed,
How Dothan's mountain round the prophet blazed;
Chariots of fire and horses throng'd the air,
And more were for them than against them there.
When pale Jerusalem heard Sennacherib's boast,
How, in their march of death, his locust host
Swept field and forest, rivers turn'd aside,
Crush'd idols, and the living God defied,
—While fear within the walls sad vigils kept,
And the proud foe without securely slept,
At midnight, through the camp, as with a blast
Hot from Arabian sands, an angel pass'd;
And when the city rose at dawn of day,
An army of dead men around it lay!
Down in the raging furnace, bound they fell,
Three Hebrew youths,—when, lo! a miracle;
At large amidst the sevenfold flames they walk'd,
And, as in Eden, with an angel talk'd:
Up rose the king astonied and in haste;
“Three men,” he cried, “into the fires we cast;
Four I behold,—and in the fourth the mien
And semblance of the Son of God are seen.”
While Daniel lay beneath the lions' paws,
An angel shut the death-gates of their jaws,
Which, ere his headlong foes had reach'd the floor,
Crush'd all their bones, and revell'd in their gore.
Angels to prophets things to come reveal'd,
And things yet unfulfill'd in symbols seal'd,
When in deep visions of the night they lay,
And hail'd the dawn of that millennial day
For which the Church looks out with earnest eye,
And counts the moments as the hour draws nigh.
Thus angels oft to man's rebellious race
Were ministers of vengeance or of grace;
And, in the fulness of the time decreed,
Glad heralds of the woman's promised seed.

III. Part III.

To Zacharias, with his spouse grown old,
John the forerunner's course an angel told;
Struck dumb for unbelief, the father's tongue
At the babe's birth for joy brake loose and sung.
To Mary, highly favour'd, Gabriel brought
An embassy of love transcending thought;

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With fear and meekness, hearkening to his word,
“Behold,” said she, “the handmaid of the Lord.”
When Christ was born, that messenger once more
Good tidings to the Bethlehem shepherds bore;
When suddenly with him the' angelic throngs
Turn'd night to morning, earth to heaven, with songs.
When Herod sought the young child's life,—by night
An angel warn'd his foster-sire to flight;
But when the murderer's race of blood was run,
Jehovah out of Egypt call'd his Son.
When by the Spirit to the desert led,
Our Saviour had not where to lay his head;
With hunger, thirst, fatigue, and watching worn,
When he the tempter's dire assaults had borne,
Still with the written word his wiles repell'd,
Though long in that mysterious conflict held,
Till the foil'd fiend at length shrunk back with shame,
—Angels to minister unto him came.
In lone Gethsemane's most dolorous shade,
When in such agony of soul he pray'd,
That like great blood-drops falling to the ground
Burst the dark sweat from every pore around,
An angel,—from twelve legions marshall'd nigh,
Who waited but the signal of his eye,—
Cast o'er the Son of God his shadowing wing,
To strengthen him whom angels call their King.
Round the seal'd sepulchre where Jesus slept,
Angels their watch till the third morning kept;
They hail'd the earthquake, they beheld him rise,
Death's victim, now death's victor, to the skies.
While woman's faithful love the tomb survey'd
In which her hands his lifeless limbs had laid;
With lightning looks, and raiment snowy-white,
At whom as dead the guards fell down in fright,
A mighty angel—he who roll'd the stone
From the cave's mouth—the Lord's uprise made known.
Angels, to his disciples, while they saw
Their glorious Master in a cloud withdraw,
Ascend and vanish through the' expanding skies,
And follow'd him with failing hearts and eyes,
Foretold his second advent, in that day
When heaven and earth themselves shall pass away.
Angels unseen, as ministering spirits went,
When forth the chosen witnesses were sent,
With power from high to preach, where'er they trod,
The glorious Gospel of the blessed God.
Angels made straight their paths o'er land and sea,
Threw wide their prison-doors and let them free,
Smote slaughter-breathing Herod on his throne,
Led Philip where the Eunuch sat alone,
Taught meek Cornelius from what lips his ear
Might “words whereby he must be saved” hear,
And stood by fearless Paul, when, tempest-driven,
The whole ship's company to him were given.
Good angels still conduct, from age to age,
Salvation's heirs, on nature's pilgrimage;
Cherubic swords, no longer signs of strife,
Now point the way, and keep the tree of life;
Seraphic hands, with coals of living fire,
The lips of God's true messengers inspire;
Angels, who see their heavenly Father's face,
Watch o'er his little ones with special grace;
Still o'er repenting sinners they rejoice,
And blend their myriad voices as one voice.
Angels, with healing virtue in their wings,
Trouble dead pools, unsluice earth's bosom-springs,
Till fresh as new-born life the waters roll;
Lepers and lame step in and are made whole.
Angels, the saints from noon-day perils keep,
And pitch their tents around them while they sleep;
Uphold them when they seem to walk alone,
Nor let them dash their foot against a stone;
They teach the dumb to speak, the blind to see,
Comfort the dying in their agony,
And to the rest of paradise convey
Spirits enfranchised from the crumbling clay.
Strong angels, arm'd by righteous Providence,
Judgments on guilty nations still dispense,
Pour out their full-charged vials of despair
And death, o'er sun, and sea, and earth, and air;
Or sound their trumpets, while at every blast
Plague follows plague, woe treads on woe gone past.

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Bright angels, through mid-heaven shall hold their flight
Till all that sit in darkness see the light,
Still the good tidings of great joy proclaim
Till every tongue confess a Saviour's name.
The' archangel's voice, the trump of God, the cry
Of startled nature, rending earth and sky,
Shall change the living, raise the dead, and bring
All nations to the presence of their King,
Whose flaming ministers, on either hand,
Ten thousand times ten thousand angels, stand,
To witness time's full roll for ever seal'd,
And that eternity to come reveal'd,
—That era in the reign of Deity,
When sin, the curse, and death, no more can be.
Angels who fell not, men who fell restored,
Shall then rejoice in glory with the Lord;
—Hearts, harps, and voices, in one choir shall raise
The new, the old, the' eternal song of praise.
May ye who read, with him who wrote this strain,
Join in that song, and worship in that train!
1829.