University of Virginia Library

The Rider, who went forth on the white horse
Against Jerusalem, shall come again
With armies on white horses clothed in white,
And issue forth from Heaven against the world.

When Pentecost at first through heart and tongue
Lit up the beacon lights, the Spirit came
Pleading for forty years with outstretch'd hands,
To Israel, and the scatter'd tribes abroad,
Ere on Jerusalem the Judgment came.

Such was the type of things that were to be,
Of things that now are and prepare the way
Of the last final Coming: for the sun
No sooner hath attain'd his height in Heaven,
Than he is hastening to decline, the months
That bring the summer haste to bear away;
And so that morn whose feet were beautiful
Upon the mountains, with its silver feet
And saintly witnesses, hues tinged in blood,
Hastes to descend from its meridian tower.

“All they that sat in council on him gazed,
And saw as it had been an Angel's face;”
But wherefore that irradiant bloom that crown'd
The face of holy Stephen? not for nought
That glorious lumination; the strange power
Of beauty thus withheld in mute suspense
Passionate hearts that burn'd with fierce revenge,
And teeth that gnash'd, till they should hear awhile
The Martyr's dying words, while they pour'd forth
Divinest eloquence and witness bore;
Thus were they with a charm'd entrancing gaze
Held listening to the end, that they might hear.

Haply it may be thus that in high place
The Church hath made appeal to this our age,
As with a face of beauty clothed without,
In queenly robe of divers colours wrought,
To hold unwilling hearts till they have heard.

For thus Religion with her beckoning hand
Hath come forth to the world in these our times,
Not with the countenance by sorrow marr'd,
Or fire and blood, but with the attendant Arts,
Her handmaids, issuing forth from classic shades
And Academic bowers, while Genius opes
The way, and Learning rich with ancient stores.

May be 'tis that which John in vision saw
In the Apocalypse, when he beheld
An Angel winging way in the mid Heaven,
And all the earth illumined with his light
Before the fall of Babylon; methinks,
The kindling of the light, whate'er it be,
Trial denotes approaching, like the flash
And flickering of the candle ere it sinks
In darkness; thus the vengeance came withal,
Though good Josiah had restored the light
To the Mount Sion; through Judea went
The Gospel bearing witness, that all-arm'd
And crownèd Rider on the snow-white steed,
Before the shadows which on Salem lower'd
Of that her last destruction. Sure the world
Is hurrying on and speeding to her end
With tenfold speed than hath been known before,
And there are marvels now on every wind;—
While with electric haste, like lightning pour'd
From land to land, is all intelligence;—
With influences viewless as the wind,
In wondrous ways erewhile unknown, and such
Surpassing thought, as amid them of old
In wildest dreams scarce found a counterpart.

What “new thing” now to-day? what tidings new
Brings this new season? what unlook'd-for change?
But yesterday in new-discover'd worlds
God hath permitted the uncultured earth
To open golden treasures, such as draw
As by magnetic influence the hearts
Of people, climes, and nations; wave o'er wave,
As seas where some great barrier is removed,
And tide o'er tide pour in the rushing floods
Of souls, in the eternal balance weigh'd,
Fill up the void, and make the desert lands
All populous, preparing the round world
For the great Consummation, which now hastes
And hurries on apace with fervid wheels,
Wheel within wheel, and louder fills the ear;
As when one listens for some wheel'd approach,
Now labouring in silence up the hills,
Then hurrying on apace with downward course,
Or borne straight onward; then at intervals
Distinct and clear, then lost upon the ear,
Then louder and at hand. The soul withdrawn
In solitude and stillness of calm thoughts
Thus hears the thundering motion of the speed
That brings upon us the great Day of days,
The harvest of the earth. Thus while men talk
Of golden fields and homefelt loss or gains,
Of money-markets, sinews of the world
Braced or relax'd, and countless arteries
That feed the heart of nations;—more retired
Behind the busy scene, the man of God
Listens, should he perchance of God's own voice
Distinguish the faint undersound, and waits
On watch to see whate'er His Hand will do;
Careful alone that 'mid the stir and noise
He may not thus forget the “treasure hid,”
The pearl of costly price, which lies unseen
In secret places, such as needs long nights
And days of watching, and all waters tried
In patience and endurance, cold and heat;—
And that great City hid from mortal sight
Whose streets are paved with gold, and portals burn
With the effulgence of celestial gems.

The Earth now lifts her golden doors, as if
Long-hidden treasures opening by command;
But what is gold? and what doth it portend?
Now gold is to corruption close allied,
And borders on decay. 'Tis peace awhile,
Then wars arise and tempests shake the scene.
The trees autumnal put on golden hues,
And are one tranquil mass of hanging gold
O'er the calm face of death. Then comes the gale
Howling its prelude through the forest halls,
And strips the golden scenery of death,
Mocks at its peacefulness, shakes to and fro
And lifts on high the besom. Wars go forth,
Rumours of wars, and in a moment's space
Tumults and arm'd dissensions rock the world.
What is the mustering and the gathering arms,
With sights and sounds that fill the Boreal heavens,
The North all moving down its conquering hordes?
When men said “All is peace,” from hidden cause
Mysterious, that the tongue in faltering asks
The Why and Wherefore, and finds no reply;
Our popular voice hath fann'd itself with hate,
Blowing the fumes till they break forth in sparks,
Kindled the sparks to flame, the flame to war,
And Europe unto arms; then loud the sound
Of justice and necessity, the boast
Of power—of armies—of allies, and fleets,
And of all-conquering Science. That which should
Extinguish wars the well-spring of the strife,
The Holy Places and the Sepulchre;
But not as with crusaders leagued of old
Is England now afloat—the Saintly Isle
Of Cœur de Lion hath made common cause
With infidel and Moslem, Gaul and Turk,
Preluding types of coming Antichrist.

Meanwhile the womb of time, its destined course
Fulfilling, throbs as with portentous throes,
Ominous to disclose great destinies.
And like those fabled giants which of old
Heap'd mountains upon mountains in their war,
And mingled earth with Heaven, so all things seem,
Like heavings from beneath which shake the world,
Gigantic in their shadows, and assume
Proportions in their vast electric moves
Commensurate with those great prodigies
Which shall attend the coming in of God.

And what if distant thunders for awhile,
Which once awaken'd on their mountain bed,
Now pause again and sleep? the very calm
Seems ominous, and though the gale be still,
The sudden risings of the unquiet leaves,
Their hurrying to and fro, and whirlwind dust
Arising, and the blackness which anon
Runs with its ruffling shadows o'er the face
Of the broad waters, these make calm itself
Portentous and expectant of the storm.

The sportings to and fro of the light leaves,
Light as the air, aerial notions vain,
Wild fantasies, and empty nothings void:—
These oft may indicate the fearful sport
Of unseen powers of evil, and combined
With horrors which they cover for awhile
With light soft-floating veils; such idols old
Of worship, empty names; and popular cries
Of revolutions wild, when tempests sway
The multitudes; behind them in the shade
Were devils, and the background full of Hell.
As sportive doctrines light glanced o'er the Seine,
When terrors black as midnight mirror'd were
Within its depths, and palaces of blood.

Meanwhile be not unmindful in these signs
The love of money was the spot of heart
That mark'd “the man of sin,” when humble guise
Conceal'd “perdition's son;” a golden cup
Is in “the mystery,” and fills the hand
Of Babylon, the gold-clad sorceress;
“The glory and the kingdoms of the world”
Were offer'd once in vain; but not in vain
To the incarnate enemy of God.
But who his followers? what battle-field?
What nation, and what army, and what arms?
I doubt not—no such hosts as range apart
The Roman and Waldenses, armèd crowds
In which on either side doth Satan pass
Unseen from man to man, by secret hearts
Numbering his host and unknown votaries.
Away then with the idle Seers, which thus
In climes and peoples, marshall'd rank by rank,
Would see the secret things which are of God.

Again: when exiled Jacob on the stone
Slept houseless, he was visited of God,
With angel hosts and ladders into Heaven,
Richer than palaces that lowly bed.
And without staff or purse in Christ's own garb
Went forth that better Israel of the Twelve,
Shod with the Gospel-tidings;—what if then
Wealth may attend and harbinger the approach
Of him, whom men shall praise, adore, and serve,
Christ's enemy? Are these the golden wastes,
Seeds of the dragon sown to rise with men
For conflict, who shall compass all about
“The Beloved City?” it defies our thought,
And all conjecture. Therefore more the need
To cleave unto each word, nor let it go,
Which Christ hath left a lantern to our feet,
And to His guiding Hand where'er it lead.

Hated and fear'd, yet praised withal and served,
Yea, loved too and adored, mysterious power,
May be that foe of God, the incarnate sin,
When time shall point and read the mystery.
A scourge and a destroyer France hath seen
The hammer in the hand of God, whereby
He would break small the nations in His wrath,
And France was wasted by him worst of all,
When he led forth her armies unto death;
Yet France her scourge and great destroyer loved.

But this our Isle then lay amidst the storm
Beneath the Almighty's shield; and from this Isle
The Church sends forth her branches through the world;—
Haply for some great good of God design'd,
Still mindful of her Saint, our martyr'd King,
For He is wont to bear the past in mind.
Unless it be that in herself she fail
Of her high calling; from the cries abroad
Of liberty which are the breath and voice
Of the great Lawless one which is to be.
The mouths—the lion mouths—mouths breathing flame
And sulphur, mouths in head and mouths in tail,
In the arm'd host of Antichrist, of which
Speaks the Apocalypse;—the dragon's mouth,
Mouth of the beast, and the false prophet's mouth,
Whence issue unclean spirits, full-mouth'd frogs;—
What if this be the over-teeming Press,
Breathing the breath of the great multitude,
And with its passions fill'd; from whence go forth
Daily and weekly rumours, doctrines false,
And slanders; where the popular Voice enthroned
Sits as the arbiter of sacred truth,
Speaks from itself as from an oracle,
Self-worshipping, self-listening, self-adored;—
Authority and fealty set at nought;—
Till pestilential is the air we breathe
Unto the better life which is of God.

But nought shall injure that which hath within
The strength of God; for God delights to aid
The soul, when most bereaved of human help;
And outward persecutions hurt her not.
E'en so encompass'd with her shield of light,
The Church shall walk her stedfast way in Heaven
Above the clouds and through them, which but seem
To soil, but touch her not, nor do approach;
But dwell in this our atmosphere below.
Nor shall she heed the clamours of the world
That rise against her, than the moon the noise
Of dogs or birds of night, which at her light
Prolong their angry or complaining cries.

Meanwhile the signs and seasons I would read,
If He who gives all wisdom would but grant
The meditative eye, which as in prayer
It gazes upward on the Source of Light
Purges the visual ray. Age after age
Hath look'd for consummation, and hath seen
The folding up of this our book of life;
Nor all in vain, for this our state at best
Is one of such expectancy, and most
To spirits most refined; such wisdom dwells
With God, it is “the mind of Christ” that waits.
What if each age throws to the surface up
Something that seems awhile to men that watch
The coming of that wicked one, and then
As waves retiring on the foaming beach
Only again with a redoubled power
Returning, with increase at each return?
Thus imperceptibly it onward gains
In preparation, for each threatening wave,
Though it falls back on bosom of the deep,
Yet ebbing and returning on and on
Advances. Meanwhile in all shades of men
There looks forth expectation; some will talk
Of the great man of destiny, who yet
In coming shall restore us; many see
Outskirts of the great conflict; some e'en note
The mystic Armageddon, some the walls
Of new Jerusalem on Judah's heights,
Local and temporal; in this our night
Others the Babylon in which there writes
The Hand of fire, which they with easy thoughts
Interpret. But there is too much of earth
In these our speculations; far too much
Of carnal gross conception dims the eye
For spiritual insight; other eyes we need
To see the mighty conflict which is warr'd
In heavenly places; for as Christ unseen
Is deepening and progressing with His light,
The darker shade associate deepens too
With an intenser wickedness; as they
To whom Christ's heralds witness bore in vain
Shall in the Judgment meet the heavier doom
Than Sodom and Gomorrha; all these signs
I witness, yet I have not eyes to trace.
Yet more, we ne'er shall see with carnal sight
The City built upon a mountain seat,
Nor Army of white horses with the eyes
Of sense, nor harness'd hosts in arm'd array:
But yet the mighty dread realities,
Of which the symbols these and shadows are,
Within us and about us even now
May yet be come or coming; sights there are,
Into the untried Future as we sail,
Not looming on the horizon,—but home-signs
Of speedy consummation. By descent
Bodies descending gather speed, so now
Things hasten to their end, with new untold
Rapidity; the lets too which have been,
And hindrances to the vast flood of light
Which is to fill the world, seem now to break
And open;—erst Japan and China saw
The Light, and dying Xavier left behind
A train of glory—for awhile—the flame
Earthly became and dim, and then went out,
Extinguish'd in ill savour; Holland then
Was written in the book that chronicles
Ill deeds of men; India, Paraguay
Saw and again were darken'd; now anon
Those systems—Budda—Hindoo—Mahomet—
By their own inborn weakness to the ground
Seem crumbling of themselves; or it may be
The devils leave those temples which they loved
To house themselves in homes of Christendom.

Meanwhile approaches fast that gathering round
The City of the Saints, whate'er it be,
To which the Finger of the all-seeing God
Hath pointed from the dawning of the world,
When Satan's chain a short while shall be loosed;—
At its approach, if we are woman-born,
We needs must tremble, if not for ourselves—
Gather'd into the chambers of the grave
Until this tyranny be overpast,—
Yet for our little ones. But here our fears
May mislead, misinterpret, set astray;
So futile our conjectures of the ill
Approaching, of what shape, and in what guise—
Before—aside—or after—the assail
By which “the mighty” and “the many” fall.
But this we know is safety more and more
Midst “runnings to and fro” on every side,
To commune in our chamber, and be still.
Yet not in indolence to sit apart,
But in the silence of the heart meanwhile
In going in and out, at home, abroad,
To walk in circumspection, as may keep
The peace of God's good Spirit, shield and helm
And armoury of God. And if I might
Keep one dear longing wish for those that come
Hereafter, and for whom I ceaseless pray,
It were that they to far benighted shores,
Kingdoms of darkness, shadows of the grave,
Might bear the truth we love, the pearl of price
Sow with much increase, that which unto us
Is dearer than the light, which unto us
Is all our life, the love of God in Christ;—
The law of love within, the law without
Of order; but within the soul I mean
Burning compassions, burning unto death,
The missionary clad all o'er and girt
With his Lord's lowliness, this, this is more,
Far more than rich inheritance of lands,
Or titled honours, or keen intellect,
Or poet's power and praise; this must be sought
Early and late, this ask'd with many tears,—
That others might the torch thus keep alive
To after generations; so myself
Would sleep in peace, and though undone the work
I fain would e'en myself have done, yet this
I leave to His compassions in whose breast
I would lay all my griefs, and hide my fears,—
Griefs for myself and fears for those I love,
In sorrow and in silence there would hide.

And now this poor remainder of my days
That sickness sets apart, if in the same
To contemplation given and studious ease
In loneliness of spirit, nay, say not
Of ease, but studious labour, and, God grant,
Labour not voiceless nor unfruitful found:—
If only I so write that he who reads
Might set aside anon and kneel and pray,
And read again, again to pray and kneel;
And so may in communion of the saints
All of us unto God be raised the more.

It may be that the light which is abroad
Is but the warning call,—that stirr'd thereby
The pleadings of repentance which retard,
Set not aside the uplifted hand of God;—
For restoration often comes too late,
When the appointed time hath left undone
What it was given to do,—it comes too late
Not for alleviation and reprieve,
And penitential hopes, but comes too late
To stop the path of Judgment which must have
Its righteous course with nations. See afar
Where England hath gone forth on foreign shores;
Lift up thine eyes, and look abroad, and see,
The fields are dry as stubble for the flame,
Not white unto the harvest; yet howe'er
Upon the green the fire shall have no power
But for a pile of welcome sacrifice.

'Tis said those heavy blights, those blackening clouds
Of insect tribes, impalpable as dust,
Whose ravages eat up the leaf and flower,
Come not till call'd for to the withering herb
By Nature's beckoning hand, that the dry wind
Or nipping frost first drinks the juice of life.
And so 'tis ever; when let loose of God
Tartar or Goth or Moslem hordes came down
And ravaged all the fields where Christ had sown;
'Twas first degeneracy that bred within,
And faith that on the stem hung drooping down.
It was a star which fallen had from Heaven,
To which the key was given that oped the abyss,
Whence issued forth the tribes of living death.
The life divine of Prayer and Fasting nursed
Must fan the flame, must fill with vital heat,
And filling must expand, expanding gain
Strength, from the limbs unto the heart return,
And then fill all the body with itself.
Opening abroad, the fresh and sprouting leaves
Send power and life unto the stock and root
From whence they spring. Thus must our Church extend
Into all lands and fill the Isles, or else
Itself within itself shall droop and die.

For when the tree hath life it branches forth
Strong boughs, it spreads itself, it scatters seeds;
And more confined the root and parent stock,
The more it puts forth flowers and flower-born seeds,
And multiplies its being. Or as wind,
The type of the Great Spirit, and the fire
His chariot, these do live but when they move,
When they move not they are put out and die.

Nor can the sword of persecution, though
It lop the branches visible abroad,
Cut off the secret life, but from the root
It spreads and shoots more vigorous, unless
The life itself be dead, and at the heart
A worm born of decay preys on life's germ.

When the Cross is uplifted, when again
Its shadow with a darkness veils the earth,
The stars shall then come forth, and here and there
Pave the dim path of the approaching Morn.
When those dark clouds are thickest 'mid the clouds
The Cross shall then appear, and hide the sun,
And God shall on His own in suffering lay
His hand wherein is life; then Christian ranks
Shall be together knit in mailèd strength.

Oh, that mine eyelids may not droop in night!
Now in the cooler evening of the day,
When passion's glow is past, God's voice I hear.
Oh, that to walk with Him may yet be mine!
Though Conscience from His Presence fain would hide
Amid the garden trees: 'mid verdant scenes
Nature would soothe one to forget His voice
And searching eye, which is the heart's own light.
Oh, that I may not sleep the sleep of death!
For “darkness shall pursue His enemies,”
'Tis written; therefore would I look for light
From Him, Him only—look for it as they
Who watch for morning, lest while I think not
The darkness overtake me, night come down
O'er the slow footsteps of declining age.

That enemy must now be at the door
Who shall precede His coming, of all ill
The consummation; and “the man of sin,”
Judas, was hid till suddenly reveal'd,
Though many warnings compass'd him about
With spiritual eyes;—his coming was at night,
When most unlook'd for; when they were asleep
Who should have watch'd. We know not how, nor when,
But as the locust tribes which fill the air,
Climb up into the house, and in each place,
And hearth and home are found, so would I seek
Around me and within me for the host
Of that the Great Destroyer, yet to come.

Meanwhile behold the Church of God abroad,
So broken through the new world, through the old
So overlaid, that faith itself scarce sees
The light in Heaven, and love divine grows dim!
'Tis said the sun and moon shall be withdrawn,
And stars in Heaven shall fall from Christ's right hand.
But still is His own Presence by Himself
Pledged ne'er to fail us till the end shall be.

Nor can we judge of the mysterious laws
Of Sacraments and gifts, and by what lines,
What barriers or inclosures God hath hedged
That gift of life which hidden is with Christ,
How far Himself hath bound to ordinance,
Channels of grace; for oft in ways untold
His mercies overflow their given bounds,
And pass o'er let and hindrance; if there be
Those unto whom 'tis given to read the Word
Brought down to man by harbingers Divine,
Who therein purge by prayer the eye of faith
To see the life-dispensing Three in One
And seeing to adore, adoring love,
And loving to obey, in all things known
Of duty;—in such case we needs must think
That great the hallowing power; it cannot be
That prayer to God as seen in Christ reveal'd
Should e'er be all in vain; it needs must be
Replete with marvellous energy to draw,
To quicken, to transmute, to sanctify
The heart and the affections, though the seal
Of Baptism be unknown, the Living Bread,
And the transmitted heralds sent of God.
And this we may in all assurance hope,
Although we know not the degree or kind
Of the impediment which in such case
Mars the full gift of life; such various bounds
In the large prodigality of good
Which God bestows in nature countless are,
Gradations melting in a thousand forms,
O'erpassing laws, found in new shapes, and still
Permeating through new ways, and where withheld
Some compensations to supply the void,
The more and less through all. The Laplander
Of summer and of winter knows the change
And in the sun rejoices, though so scant
His beams, contending with the wastes of snow.
The Moon the night may govern, and the Sun
Of Righteousness, with healing in His wings,
In His appointed courses thus may move
With more or less of fulness, and in power
More near, or distant. Albeit in the spots
Most blest and quicken'd by his living beam,
'Mid the fair fruits and richest stores of life,
Serpents may hide, lie nearer, bask in light.
Yet in the climes where plenitude of Grace
Is most impair'd, impeded, or shut out,
Save but for casual gleams that overpass
All hindrances of evil and neglect;—
Although we know not how far in such case
The Three in One, that record bear in Heaven,
May in the secret soul their witness bear
To sons of God; how far adulterate
The seal of that true peace which passeth thought;—
Yet this I deem, that none to Christ as God
Can pray with a sincere though erring heart
And come away unbless'd; and I in this,
'Midst the divisions sad and numberless,
Confusion on confusion spread abroad
Upon the face of Christendom, yet still
In this I may rejoice, and do rejoice,
Where Christ is named and worshipp'd. Thus on earth
When He was seen in faith, though weak and dim,
Yet all in their degree received of good
Who came to Christ as to the Word of God,
Though faith alone in Him as God the Word
Had the full power of life. And now amid
The strifes and the diversities and tongues,
The lines and demarcations and the bounds,
The “anise, mint, and cummin,” straitening more
Things straiten'd and the straiten'd gate of life,
This we all know and doubt not, God is Love;
And to know love is so far to know God;
And in this love of God is love of man.
Here then be emulation, here the strife
This to attain; in this we all are weak,
In this halt, lame, and blind, yet this the race
Is set before us, more and more to know
That God is Love—and Love will give to know.
This only fails not, hence there may arise
Largeness of heart and freedom to forgive;
And as in those who gaze on scenes most vast
And wonderful in nature,—mountain heights
Or seas or stars unnumber'd,—as they gaze
On such the vastness wonderful, and lost
In the sublimity which fills with awe,
They see not lines and spots of measured rights
And properties, which all around them lie;
So may we grow into the Infinite,
The boundless love of God; and in that love
Forget our kind and kindred, mine and thine,
And all the littleness of this our lot,
Except as seen in God, and God is Love,
And all things seen in God are seen in Love.
And thus too 'mid the controversial strife,
The part—the party—and the party zeal,
And all the sunder-partings severing men,
In love they all to their dimensions sink
As seen in God; and seeing them in God
We shall but see them as they separate
From Him. And if we bring them to His love
By loving, for all love by nature is
Full of attractions and of sympathies,—
And if we gain them to the love of God,
That love shall teach them knowledge,—nothing is
Like love for soul-enlightening: love may add
To what in faith is lacking, and may wait
Till through the weakness of the flesh shall come
The fulness of the blessing. But of Love
We drink by lowly prayer, by ceaseless prayer;
Love is brought down by prayer, and in the heart
Spreads wings and broods and nests on our dead thoughts,
Till from them it has given birth by degrees
To images of love all like itself,
That as God hath loved us, so we may love.

Love is to Him so dear, that He hath made
Our natural households counterparts of Heaven,
So many centres all of partial love,
Which radiate round themselves their warmth and light;
Each hearth an altar of that sacred fire;
Each home built up by mutual charities,
With intervening ties, as centres all
And little spheres of love each within each.
That we may rise from such weak semblances
To that diviner love, which may embrace
Household and neighbourhood and distant clime.