 | The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery |  |
GREAT UNTRUTH.
“Ye shall not surely die.”—Gen. iii. 4.
“Ye shall not surely die,”
Dark speech! that dared defy
The God of Glory, Who created man,
And, save yon mystic tree,
Heaven's garden left him free,
Where rich the streams of primal music ran.
Dark speech! that dared defy
The God of Glory, Who created man,
And, save yon mystic tree,
Heaven's garden left him free,
Where rich the streams of primal music ran.
A love was in that law
Beyond what Reason saw,
Whereby obedience would have hallow'd bliss:
It typed a truth divine,—
That man, oh God! was Thine,
And should have learnt it by a law like this.
Beyond what Reason saw,
Whereby obedience would have hallow'd bliss:
It typed a truth divine,—
That man, oh God! was Thine,
And should have learnt it by a law like this.
A ruin'd Angel came;
Yet not on wings of flame,
With lustres wreath'd around his kingly brow;
But, in a serpent-form
Conceal'd his venom'd charm,
And poison'd Man to what we see him now!
Yet not on wings of flame,
With lustres wreath'd around his kingly brow;
But, in a serpent-form
Conceal'd his venom'd charm,
And poison'd Man to what we see him now!
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Oh! deep as dread the spell
The Arch-fiend wove so well,
Who whisper'd treason unto creatures fair,
Which, pure from guilt and guile,
Beneath God's holy smile
Bright Priest and Priestess of creation were.
The Arch-fiend wove so well,
Who whisper'd treason unto creatures fair,
Which, pure from guilt and guile,
Beneath God's holy smile
Bright Priest and Priestess of creation were.
Tremendous was their fall!
And dark the fiendish thrall
Which so encompass'd with corrupting power
Both soul and body then,
That on the race of men
Came death,—the penance of that dooming hour!
And dark the fiendish thrall
Which so encompass'd with corrupting power
Both soul and body then,
That on the race of men
Came death,—the penance of that dooming hour!
And doth the Tempter cease?
Hath Earth obtain'd release
From all the blighted Seraph can employ,—
That stains our yielded soul,
And, by undreamt control,
Heaven's inward light may darken or destroy?
Hath Earth obtain'd release
From all the blighted Seraph can employ,—
That stains our yielded soul,
And, by undreamt control,
Heaven's inward light may darken or destroy?
The wide world answers, No!
For, still he reigns below,
And syllables in spirit o'er again
The magic of that word
Primeval woman heard;
“Ye shall not die,”—yet sounds that impious strain!
For, still he reigns below,
And syllables in spirit o'er again
The magic of that word
Primeval woman heard;
“Ye shall not die,”—yet sounds that impious strain!
“Ye shall not surely die!”
Men listen to the Lie
That so enchains them to the serpent's doom,
For passion, pride, and will
To God act treason still,
Nor heed what thunders roll beyond the tomb.
Men listen to the Lie
That so enchains them to the serpent's doom,
For passion, pride, and will
To God act treason still,
Nor heed what thunders roll beyond the tomb.
O! Virtue, Love, and Truth,
Array'd in vernal youth
With life before ye, like a long romance,
Why not to Grace retreat,
Who from the Mercy-seat
Lifts o'er your perill'd ways her watching glance?
Array'd in vernal youth
With life before ye, like a long romance,
Why not to Grace retreat,
Who from the Mercy-seat
Lifts o'er your perill'd ways her watching glance?
Believe that sin is death,
That poison taints its breath,
Nor ever by the grave-stone thoughtless be;
For sepulchres can preach,
And pallid conscience reach
With sermons on sin-hating Deity.
That poison taints its breath,
Nor ever by the grave-stone thoughtless be;
For sepulchres can preach,
And pallid conscience reach
With sermons on sin-hating Deity.
Unweave that serpent-lie
“Ye shall not surely die,”
Spirit of grace! within these hearts of ours;
And by Truth's cheering ray
Disperse sad doubts away,
And seal with holiness men's ransom'd powers.
“Ye shall not surely die,”
Spirit of grace! within these hearts of ours;
And by Truth's cheering ray
Disperse sad doubts away,
And seal with holiness men's ransom'd powers.
And thus, though tombs remain,
And still the loathèd chain
Of sin and sorrow bind us to the earth,
When once the fight is o'er,
Emanuel! we shall soar
To share Thy kingdom of the second birth.
And still the loathèd chain
Of sin and sorrow bind us to the earth,
When once the fight is o'er,
Emanuel! we shall soar
To share Thy kingdom of the second birth.
| The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery | |