Sacred Meditations and Moral Themes In Verse By the Rev. Robert Montgomery ... Third Edition--Revised and Enlarged |
 |
CHRIST APPEARS TO MARY. |
 | Sacred Meditations and Moral Themes In Verse |  |
96
CHRIST APPEARS TO MARY.
Down came The Angel, at the dead of night,
Blazing with glory! From his blasting form
Of fearful brightness back the keepers fell
Shuddering; and speechless as a thought they lay,
And whiter than the moonlight's pallid beam,—
Blanched unto death by that blood-chilling sight
That shook them, as if God himself were come
Close to their senses, to survey their souls!
For, oh, that Apparition like a power
Resistless, with a radiant outburst came.
His face was light'ning: and his eyes a fire,
And dazzlingly his heaven-wove garments shined
Over his Stature, like a sunrise gilding snow;
While underneath him reeled the ground
By earthquake palsied, as the pond'rous stone
Rolled from the grave of Jesus,—with a crash
Like thunder, heard in supernat'ral dreams.
Thus in this dread magnificence, unseen,
Unheard, impalpably our buried Christ
Into the God-Man gathered back again
His Being, and by innate power sustained,
Rose from the tomb, and with him rose the World!
Blazing with glory! From his blasting form
Of fearful brightness back the keepers fell
Shuddering; and speechless as a thought they lay,
And whiter than the moonlight's pallid beam,—
Blanched unto death by that blood-chilling sight
That shook them, as if God himself were come
Close to their senses, to survey their souls!
For, oh, that Apparition like a power
Resistless, with a radiant outburst came.
His face was light'ning: and his eyes a fire,
And dazzlingly his heaven-wove garments shined
Over his Stature, like a sunrise gilding snow;
While underneath him reeled the ground
By earthquake palsied, as the pond'rous stone
Rolled from the grave of Jesus,—with a crash
Like thunder, heard in supernat'ral dreams.
Thus in this dread magnificence, unseen,
Unheard, impalpably our buried Christ
Into the God-Man gathered back again
97
Rose from the tomb, and with him rose the World!
Then Earth and Heaven, and Hell, and Space, and Time,
Angels and Fiends, with Systems, Suns, and Worlds,
When from His cer'ments our Emanuel burst
Lustrous with life, and clad with deathless bloom,—
Around them all a thrilling influence ran!
For thus the triumph of that Great Decree,
The noontide glory of a Plan arranged
In the deep centre of th' Eternal Mind,—
Was witnessed: Death and Sin were overcome,
And round about the risen Saviour beamed
A halo of all Attributes divine
In full consent, magnificently crowned!
For, as in Adam, man's primeval Head,
Our blasted Nature to the tomb went down,
Struck to the root by treason's horrid blight,
Our Second Adam, who is Lord from heaven,
That root hath quickened into life again;
Sending the Sap of His immortal strength
Through all its branches! O, the grace immense!
Big with eternity beyond our mind
Fully to grasp,—that God's Paternal Word
No single Person, but a Nature whole
Assumed; and thus, through tears, and pangs, and toils
Uncounted; and through all that hellish craft
Could summon, or this atheistic Earth
Invent, to force Him from perfection's way,—
That Nature did He, with untiring power
And triumph carry, sinless, and unstained!
E'en when through crucifixion's gory death,
Down to the chamber of the penal grave
Our Nature in its buried Surety went,
Corruption from its back recoiled!—For Death
Was mastered, by a Hand, whose kingly might
Shivered to air those adamantine bonds
Which else had bound it with almighty grasp
For ever; and amid the shout and song
Of bright Adorers, watching from on high
This miracle of wonders,—from the tomb
That Nature into life immortal brought!
There placed it, far above all Heavens and Hosts
Celestial, side by side with God enthroned
Our Prince below, our Paragon above,
And, to infinity, our All in All!
Angels and Fiends, with Systems, Suns, and Worlds,
When from His cer'ments our Emanuel burst
Lustrous with life, and clad with deathless bloom,—
Around them all a thrilling influence ran!
For thus the triumph of that Great Decree,
The noontide glory of a Plan arranged
In the deep centre of th' Eternal Mind,—
Was witnessed: Death and Sin were overcome,
And round about the risen Saviour beamed
A halo of all Attributes divine
In full consent, magnificently crowned!
For, as in Adam, man's primeval Head,
Our blasted Nature to the tomb went down,
Struck to the root by treason's horrid blight,
Our Second Adam, who is Lord from heaven,
That root hath quickened into life again;
Sending the Sap of His immortal strength
Through all its branches! O, the grace immense!
Big with eternity beyond our mind
Fully to grasp,—that God's Paternal Word
No single Person, but a Nature whole
Assumed; and thus, through tears, and pangs, and toils
98
Could summon, or this atheistic Earth
Invent, to force Him from perfection's way,—
That Nature did He, with untiring power
And triumph carry, sinless, and unstained!
E'en when through crucifixion's gory death,
Down to the chamber of the penal grave
Our Nature in its buried Surety went,
Corruption from its back recoiled!—For Death
Was mastered, by a Hand, whose kingly might
Shivered to air those adamantine bonds
Which else had bound it with almighty grasp
For ever; and amid the shout and song
Of bright Adorers, watching from on high
This miracle of wonders,—from the tomb
That Nature into life immortal brought!
There placed it, far above all Heavens and Hosts
Celestial, side by side with God enthroned
Our Prince below, our Paragon above,
And, to infinity, our All in All!
Thus, by a fibre of our Flesh is bound
To Christ the family entire of man:
Faithful, or faithless,—all shall rise
To glory endless, or to penal shame untold.
Yes! when the tenant'ry of tombs concealed,
When vale, or mountain, land, or lonely sea
Where stranded Navies in the storm went down,
Or shrieking mariners at midnight sank,—
When famous battle-fields, and vaulted graves
In vast cathedrals; or, when rustic mounds
In meek retirement far from crowds untrod;
When these shall answer to the trumpet-blast
The four winds carry through Creation's round,
Till death turn life, and clay to flesh resolve,
Bone comes to bone, and not one atom fails
To make Identity and Form complete
In each and all, o'er whom remorseless Death
Shook his pale sceptre,—what will man behold
In the dread scen'ry of this dooming hour,
Save one vast comment, on the word of Him
Who bade the mourner, in Himself believe
The Resurrection and the Life to stand!
To Christ the family entire of man:
Faithful, or faithless,—all shall rise
To glory endless, or to penal shame untold.
Yes! when the tenant'ry of tombs concealed,
When vale, or mountain, land, or lonely sea
99
Or shrieking mariners at midnight sank,—
When famous battle-fields, and vaulted graves
In vast cathedrals; or, when rustic mounds
In meek retirement far from crowds untrod;
When these shall answer to the trumpet-blast
The four winds carry through Creation's round,
Till death turn life, and clay to flesh resolve,
Bone comes to bone, and not one atom fails
To make Identity and Form complete
In each and all, o'er whom remorseless Death
Shook his pale sceptre,—what will man behold
In the dread scen'ry of this dooming hour,
Save one vast comment, on the word of Him
Who bade the mourner, in Himself believe
The Resurrection and the Life to stand!
Not Life alone, but Resurrection too,
The God Incarnate did for man achieve;
And thus poured light on that,—which, unexplained,
Convulsed philosophy, the classic mind
Perturbed, and all surmising reason hoped
Disorganized, or made mere brilliant guess;—
E'en on this mighty and momentous truth,
That soul and body, into living man
Recalled, replaced, and sensibly perceived,
On the dread platform of the Last Assize
Shall stand hereafter! For, though Conscience told
To the deep soul of universal man,
That in him something of immortal growth
Was planted; and, upon this genial stock
Those dreaming rulers of the olden time,
The Poets,—grafted much of fancy vile;
Yet did the grave between them and their creed
A gulf of darkness, not to be o'ercome,
Produce; and on this barren instinct grew
Whatever Priest, or Poet in his dreams,
Chose to engraft from superstition's world;—
For truths when halved, are worse than lies entire,
And may be wielded by a master-Soul
For priests or monarchs, magistrates or slaves,
As time may need, or tyranny demand.
The God Incarnate did for man achieve;
And thus poured light on that,—which, unexplained,
Convulsed philosophy, the classic mind
Perturbed, and all surmising reason hoped
Disorganized, or made mere brilliant guess;—
E'en on this mighty and momentous truth,
That soul and body, into living man
Recalled, replaced, and sensibly perceived,
On the dread platform of the Last Assize
100
To the deep soul of universal man,
That in him something of immortal growth
Was planted; and, upon this genial stock
Those dreaming rulers of the olden time,
The Poets,—grafted much of fancy vile;
Yet did the grave between them and their creed
A gulf of darkness, not to be o'ercome,
Produce; and on this barren instinct grew
Whatever Priest, or Poet in his dreams,
Chose to engraft from superstition's world;—
For truths when halved, are worse than lies entire,
And may be wielded by a master-Soul
For priests or monarchs, magistrates or slaves,
As time may need, or tyranny demand.
And what, though Giants in the realm of thought
Rose o'er the dwarfs around them; and approached
Truths which project beyond the bounds of time,
Casting their shadows o'er the world to come;
Though Sages spake oracularly wise
Tones of deep wisdom, which do yet entrance
Our wonder; and, some mental heroes dared
Dive into darkness with a noble plunge,
And drew forth sparks of Immortality!—
Unmaster'd lay the mysteries of the tomb
Before them. O, 'twas here they stood amazed,
And, in the dream of their unbodied state,
Shuddered, as on th' eternal brink they stood,
Casting afar their melancholy gaze
O'er the dread possible of doom to come!
Rose o'er the dwarfs around them; and approached
Truths which project beyond the bounds of time,
Casting their shadows o'er the world to come;
Though Sages spake oracularly wise
Tones of deep wisdom, which do yet entrance
Our wonder; and, some mental heroes dared
Dive into darkness with a noble plunge,
And drew forth sparks of Immortality!—
Unmaster'd lay the mysteries of the tomb
Before them. O, 'twas here they stood amazed,
101
Shuddered, as on th' eternal brink they stood,
Casting afar their melancholy gaze
O'er the dread possible of doom to come!
Reason was mighty, but was reason still,
Though raised, refined, and unto strength advanced:
It suffered darkness when the Will declined
From God, and deified itself for Law.
Then, blind confusion o'er our being crept
In all beyond the palpable, and plain:
Nature's religion was to nature's state
By heaven adjusted, with harmonious skill,
And hopes and fears consistently could wield
Their blending forces:—but, when sin began,
Death was a gap in man's first glory made;
And while in principle, firm conscience grasped
A Life immortal, Death caused blinding doubts
Which staggered argument, when called to prove
How Mind, denuded of its fleshly robe
In which it acted, could for judgment stand,
To hear the verdict of awarding Heaven.—
Here was a doubt beyond Cimmerian night,
In darkness; not a ray the cloud dispersed!
The taking down this Temple of the flesh,
(That fabric where each wall by God is built)
Confounded reason with chaotic gloom:
For, not the body, nor the soul, alone
Humanity a moral agent makes;
But, mind incarnate, an embodied soul:
And, when one half was into dust dissolved,
The other, though by Hope immortal dreamt,
Was left in mere conjecture's airy realm
To ply its guess-work,—and to ply in vain!
Then, how the brand of base ingratitude
Cleaves to the heart, which can unmindful beat
Of what the Gospel for the Soul hath done,
By flooding man's eternity with streams
Of splendour, from the tomb of Jesus drawn,—
Which, but for that, seems mercilessly hung
With midnight shadows of enormous sway.
For, when untaught, the panting Mind presumes
The boundless glories of a better state
Oft to predict, the grave eclipses all,
Unless the body out of death arise!
And, Thought may image some heroic sage,
Some brave inquirer, who profoundly mused
In classic grove, or academic shades,
On Matter, God, and man's unsleeping Mind,
When, at the best, Hereafter was to him
The poetry of some persuasive dream
By conscience aided, with authentic light,
And little more!—But now, the lisping child
Who cons his Bible at the Sunday-school,
Beyond the soarings of Athenian sage
Mounts, in the hope of his immortal doom.
Though raised, refined, and unto strength advanced:
It suffered darkness when the Will declined
From God, and deified itself for Law.
Then, blind confusion o'er our being crept
In all beyond the palpable, and plain:
Nature's religion was to nature's state
By heaven adjusted, with harmonious skill,
And hopes and fears consistently could wield
Their blending forces:—but, when sin began,
Death was a gap in man's first glory made;
And while in principle, firm conscience grasped
A Life immortal, Death caused blinding doubts
Which staggered argument, when called to prove
How Mind, denuded of its fleshly robe
In which it acted, could for judgment stand,
To hear the verdict of awarding Heaven.—
Here was a doubt beyond Cimmerian night,
In darkness; not a ray the cloud dispersed!
The taking down this Temple of the flesh,
(That fabric where each wall by God is built)
Confounded reason with chaotic gloom:
102
Humanity a moral agent makes;
But, mind incarnate, an embodied soul:
And, when one half was into dust dissolved,
The other, though by Hope immortal dreamt,
Was left in mere conjecture's airy realm
To ply its guess-work,—and to ply in vain!
Then, how the brand of base ingratitude
Cleaves to the heart, which can unmindful beat
Of what the Gospel for the Soul hath done,
By flooding man's eternity with streams
Of splendour, from the tomb of Jesus drawn,—
Which, but for that, seems mercilessly hung
With midnight shadows of enormous sway.
For, when untaught, the panting Mind presumes
The boundless glories of a better state
Oft to predict, the grave eclipses all,
Unless the body out of death arise!
And, Thought may image some heroic sage,
Some brave inquirer, who profoundly mused
In classic grove, or academic shades,
On Matter, God, and man's unsleeping Mind,
When, at the best, Hereafter was to him
The poetry of some persuasive dream
By conscience aided, with authentic light,
And little more!—But now, the lisping child
Who cons his Bible at the Sunday-school,
103
Mounts, in the hope of his immortal doom.
Yet 'twas a noble, but perturbing mood,
When haply, raised by some ethereal hope
Beyond the level of life's vulgar joy,
Some Priest of mind, ere yet the Gospel woke,—
Wandered to muse beneath a midnight heaven.
There, as he pondered with perusing eye
On star, and planet, while his being drank
The silence and the splendour of the scene
Like inspiration, to its inner depths,—
A dream prophetic oft his spirit warmed
Of high Existence, in some holier form
Than now appeared; and wingéd thoughts began
To flutter in him, and with strange uprise
Out of the body bore his heart away
To Homes elysian, Orbs of perfect bliss!
He felt the infinite he could not prove;
And when, perchance, with all his soul on fire,
And by the vastness of the vision swelled,
Home he returned, and found the face of death
In stern reality before him placed,—
How would the chill of this mysterious change
Come o'er his spirit, like a cloud of awe
Terror and gloom, beyond all whisper'd truths
Within to scatter, or the speaking word
Without him, to command, or cheer away!
When haply, raised by some ethereal hope
Beyond the level of life's vulgar joy,
Some Priest of mind, ere yet the Gospel woke,—
Wandered to muse beneath a midnight heaven.
There, as he pondered with perusing eye
On star, and planet, while his being drank
The silence and the splendour of the scene
Like inspiration, to its inner depths,—
A dream prophetic oft his spirit warmed
Of high Existence, in some holier form
Than now appeared; and wingéd thoughts began
To flutter in him, and with strange uprise
Out of the body bore his heart away
To Homes elysian, Orbs of perfect bliss!
He felt the infinite he could not prove;
And when, perchance, with all his soul on fire,
And by the vastness of the vision swelled,
Home he returned, and found the face of death
In stern reality before him placed,—
How would the chill of this mysterious change
Come o'er his spirit, like a cloud of awe
Terror and gloom, beyond all whisper'd truths
104
Without him, to command, or cheer away!
But, immortality for Man is made
Certain, and clear as God's existence, now;
Both for the Flesh, and for the mind secured
By Him, who soul and body hath redeemed;
And, to His own eternally enlinked
That same Humanity His grace assumed.—
He was the Resurrection which He preached:
And, thine the privilege, (and how august!)
Thou weeping Mary, first in zeal to come,
And last in love beside the tomb to stay,—
When the bright Victor over Death and Sin
Rose from His conquered grave. Majestic thought!
And ampler far than archangelic mind
Can master,—Christ our Resurrection rose!
For, oh, He did not back the heavens unfold,
Nor give Eternity a tongue to speak,
Nor, from the shrine of Deity attract
Down to our sense the Secrets of the sky;
But, to the chamber where tyrannic Death
Prisons his pale tenants with relentless chain,
Went like a Victor, grappled with the Power
Of darkness, burst in twain his direful bands,
And thence ascended, taintless, bright, and free,
Master of life, and Monarch of the grave,—
Rolling for ever from the tombs of men
The mist, and doubt, and midnight of despair!
Here is the Truth, for which blind reason groped;
The Truth philosophy in vain desired,
Th'intense Reality by conscience sought,
Yet unobtained,—that our sepulchral dust
Should from the grave arise, the soul conjoin,
And both together in one manhood blent,—
Stand before God, for Hell or Heaven prepared:
This was the Secret, earth's arisen Lord
Beyond all types, did gloriously declare!
Certain, and clear as God's existence, now;
Both for the Flesh, and for the mind secured
By Him, who soul and body hath redeemed;
And, to His own eternally enlinked
That same Humanity His grace assumed.—
He was the Resurrection which He preached:
And, thine the privilege, (and how august!)
Thou weeping Mary, first in zeal to come,
And last in love beside the tomb to stay,—
When the bright Victor over Death and Sin
Rose from His conquered grave. Majestic thought!
And ampler far than archangelic mind
Can master,—Christ our Resurrection rose!
For, oh, He did not back the heavens unfold,
Nor give Eternity a tongue to speak,
Nor, from the shrine of Deity attract
Down to our sense the Secrets of the sky;
But, to the chamber where tyrannic Death
Prisons his pale tenants with relentless chain,
Went like a Victor, grappled with the Power
Of darkness, burst in twain his direful bands,
And thence ascended, taintless, bright, and free,
105
Rolling for ever from the tombs of men
The mist, and doubt, and midnight of despair!
Here is the Truth, for which blind reason groped;
The Truth philosophy in vain desired,
Th'intense Reality by conscience sought,
Yet unobtained,—that our sepulchral dust
Should from the grave arise, the soul conjoin,
And both together in one manhood blent,—
Stand before God, for Hell or Heaven prepared:
This was the Secret, earth's arisen Lord
Beyond all types, did gloriously declare!
Yet, when our mighty and mysterious King
Blooming with immortality, arose,
And left His sepulchre a place of light
Behind Him, as the sun illumes the sea
When brightly coming from his couch of waves,—
The first unveiling of His risen form
Not to apostles, though beloved and blest,
Was made; but, unto that much-loving one
Because forgiven most,—the Magdalene!
Others had fled; yet there, amid the hush
And dreamy silence of the cold gray dawn,
Mary stood weeping; till at length, adown
The vaulted sepulchre her gaze she bent
With timid awe; when, lo! two beaming Shapes,
White as the fleecy clouds which throng the Morn
When paleness most ethereal decks Her brow,
Were seated,—where the buried Christ reposed:
And each one, with a melody whose might
Sank o'er the soul like dew o'er parchéd flowers,
Questioned her grief: but, ere the tongue could frame
An answer, back she turned her stooping form
And—there, the living Saviour! But, unknown
Amid her cloud of grief awhile He stood,
Mistaken for another; till with tones,
Where all the music of compassion breathed
Reviving magic over memory's soul,
He called her, Mary!—and that word awoke
Feeling and Faith to instantaneous act,
And laid her trembling at her Master's feet!
Amazed, o'ermastered, half delight, and dread,
Eager to prove with living touch, and clasp
The sacred Person of her risen Lord.
Blooming with immortality, arose,
And left His sepulchre a place of light
Behind Him, as the sun illumes the sea
When brightly coming from his couch of waves,—
The first unveiling of His risen form
Not to apostles, though beloved and blest,
Was made; but, unto that much-loving one
Because forgiven most,—the Magdalene!
Others had fled; yet there, amid the hush
And dreamy silence of the cold gray dawn,
Mary stood weeping; till at length, adown
The vaulted sepulchre her gaze she bent
With timid awe; when, lo! two beaming Shapes,
106
When paleness most ethereal decks Her brow,
Were seated,—where the buried Christ reposed:
And each one, with a melody whose might
Sank o'er the soul like dew o'er parchéd flowers,
Questioned her grief: but, ere the tongue could frame
An answer, back she turned her stooping form
And—there, the living Saviour! But, unknown
Amid her cloud of grief awhile He stood,
Mistaken for another; till with tones,
Where all the music of compassion breathed
Reviving magic over memory's soul,
He called her, Mary!—and that word awoke
Feeling and Faith to instantaneous act,
And laid her trembling at her Master's feet!
Amazed, o'ermastered, half delight, and dread,
Eager to prove with living touch, and clasp
The sacred Person of her risen Lord.
He stood before her, but she could not see
That Holy One: and oh, how often thus,
The sad experience of our stricken mind,
Like Mary, cannot view the Lord it loves,
Though in the mercy of our ev'ry breath,
And in the promise of His perfect Word,
In prayer, and praise, and sacramental life,—
Together with that unbreathed thought which tells
Home to the heart acceptance in the skies,
When the free spirit of assuring grace
Glows in our bosom,—though in each and all
Christ to the conscience doth Himself present,
Yet, Mary-like, the soul mistakes Him still!
Some carnal shade, or clouding sin prevents,
And the high faculty of seeing Faith
Grows undiscerning; or, in Nature's eye
The tear of sorrow doth so thickly stand
That through it, God himself grows unbeheld
A moment;—nothing but dark wo is seen!
That Holy One: and oh, how often thus,
The sad experience of our stricken mind,
Like Mary, cannot view the Lord it loves,
Though in the mercy of our ev'ry breath,
And in the promise of His perfect Word,
In prayer, and praise, and sacramental life,—
Together with that unbreathed thought which tells
107
When the free spirit of assuring grace
Glows in our bosom,—though in each and all
Christ to the conscience doth Himself present,
Yet, Mary-like, the soul mistakes Him still!
Some carnal shade, or clouding sin prevents,
And the high faculty of seeing Faith
Grows undiscerning; or, in Nature's eye
The tear of sorrow doth so thickly stand
That through it, God himself grows unbeheld
A moment;—nothing but dark wo is seen!
Yet, never from His Own, the Spirit-born,
Will Christ an over-watching care withdraw;
And often, while defenceless Reason quails,
Chariots of fire, and steeds of flame surround
The trembler; round his head a shielding hand
Is circled; and the Eye that slumbers not,
Bends o'er his being with a Brother's gaze.
He called her, Mary!—that melodious name;
And by the charm of His celestial voice,
Cleared from the eye of her dejected faith
The hiding gloom, and let the Saviour in,
By one bright flash of recognition hailed,—
“Rabboni!” And, how touchingly sublime,
That He, the woman's Seed, to woman's soul
Deigned to descend, thus marvellously bland,
Whose Equipage Eternity supplies,
Whose Throne the Attributes divine uphold,—
Yes, even He, was human to the voice!
And touched the weeper by a tone, that ran
Like music o'er the chords of memory.
Will Christ an over-watching care withdraw;
And often, while defenceless Reason quails,
Chariots of fire, and steeds of flame surround
The trembler; round his head a shielding hand
Is circled; and the Eye that slumbers not,
Bends o'er his being with a Brother's gaze.
He called her, Mary!—that melodious name;
And by the charm of His celestial voice,
Cleared from the eye of her dejected faith
The hiding gloom, and let the Saviour in,
By one bright flash of recognition hailed,—
“Rabboni!” And, how touchingly sublime,
That He, the woman's Seed, to woman's soul
Deigned to descend, thus marvellously bland,
108
Whose Throne the Attributes divine uphold,—
Yes, even He, was human to the voice!
And touched the weeper by a tone, that ran
Like music o'er the chords of memory.
And thus, entranced amid the dreaming night,
How oft the pilgrim in a far-off clime
The touching echo of some household word,
(In Feeling's ear, immortally alive)
Delights to welcome! So, the rude ship-boy
High on the mast, amid the howling storm;
Or, gasping soldier on the battle-plain
When drop by drop slow bleeding into clay,—
Frequent can hear, within the heart's clear depths,
The haunting murmur of maternal lips
His name pronouncing; till the bosom fills
With aching fondness e'en to overflow,
And the dead feelings at a single word
Wake from the tomb, and melt the mind to tears!
How oft the pilgrim in a far-off clime
The touching echo of some household word,
(In Feeling's ear, immortally alive)
Delights to welcome! So, the rude ship-boy
High on the mast, amid the howling storm;
Or, gasping soldier on the battle-plain
When drop by drop slow bleeding into clay,—
Frequent can hear, within the heart's clear depths,
The haunting murmur of maternal lips
His name pronouncing; till the bosom fills
With aching fondness e'en to overflow,
And the dead feelings at a single word
Wake from the tomb, and melt the mind to tears!
'Twas by her name, the pardoned mourner knew
Her cherished Master, from the grave arrived:
And how can we, except The Spirit shine
Bright on His work, and show His image there,—
By love's experience that Redeemer know?
And what is that, but Heaven's mysterious book
By Faith unrolled, in full assurance read,
Where the Great Shepherd hath his sheep enrolled
And registered them, each and all, by name?
Come then, O Christ, and to our souls accede;
Murmur our name, and bid the heart respond
Rabboni!—Life and Light, and Lord and Sire,
And Saviour of a lost eternity,
On earth our Merit, and in Heaven the same!
Her cherished Master, from the grave arrived:
And how can we, except The Spirit shine
Bright on His work, and show His image there,—
By love's experience that Redeemer know?
And what is that, but Heaven's mysterious book
109
Where the Great Shepherd hath his sheep enrolled
And registered them, each and all, by name?
Come then, O Christ, and to our souls accede;
Murmur our name, and bid the heart respond
Rabboni!—Life and Light, and Lord and Sire,
And Saviour of a lost eternity,
On earth our Merit, and in Heaven the same!
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