University of Virginia Library

And yet through all the mystery of my years
There runs a purpose which forbids that wail
Of passionate despair. I have not lived
At random, as a soul whom God forsakes;
But evermore His Spirit led me on,
Prompted each purpose, taught my lips to speak,
Stirred up within me that deep love, and now
Reveals the inner secret. I have learnt,
Poor, weak, and frail, to love the fallen soul
Of one thus worthless. I have given my peace,
My honour, yea, my life for her who turns
Unthankful from me. Is there not a cause?
Hath not our God wooed Israel as His bride,
The stubborn, wayward Israel, in His love
And pity, pardoning all the sins of old?
And here, too, all is baseness. Crimes of sense,
And crimes of spirit, tainting heart and life,
The altars, and the incense, and the songs
With which she bowed to Baalim; the lust,
The rapine, and the hate that rose to heaven:
These, these have lit the fire of righteous wrath;
And He, the jealous God, will visit sins
Of fathers upon children. I have learnt,
In this sharp teaching of an inward woe,
The meaning of that jealousy. I know
The pity, and the sorrow, and the pain,
The love which waters cannot quench, the zeal
Which does not shrink from chastening. So it is,
And equal stripes must fall on equal sin.
She sits alone, that poor self-widowed one,
Bowed down to earth. No golden circlet now
Crowns her dark locks. No Tyrian purple pours
Its rich, soft folds around the marble limbs;
No pearls or rubies glow on either arm;
The topaz and the sapphire cease to blend
Their radiance on the anklet's dainty band,
The coronet of feet that scorned for pride
The earth they trod on. Reft of pomp and state,
Her brow deep-furrowed with a wrath suppressed,
And lips that tell of sullen, inward storm,
She bides her time; and I must leave her there
Till those dark clouds have melted into tears,
And heart of stone gives way to heart of flesh.
The time is long and weary, and I sigh
For very grief as mournful days pass on;
And yet no sorrow, no repentant prayer,
No craving for forgiveness speaks of change.
And thou, O Israel, thou must bear thy doom,
Grow old and fail, in homes that are not thine,
Where mighty rivers water lands unknown,
And Asshur's palaces, in pride of strength,
Rise high upon the banks of Hiddekel.
No glory of the past shall wait thee there,
No pomp of kings, no priests in gorgeous robes,
No victims bleeding on the altar-fires;
Nor shall the ephod set with sparkling gems,
Nor pillar speaking of the gate of heaven,
Nor Teraphim with strange mysterious gleams,
Give then their signs oracular. Long years
Thy sons shall hang their harps on Babel's trees,
And wander homeless over all the lands,
A by-word to the nations, till at last
The door of hope is opened, and the light
Breaks in on that thick darkness. But the end
Is certain. They will turn and seek their God,
Seek David's son, the heir of David's throne,
No longer hardened in their scorn of scorn,
But mourning, weeping, seeking peace from God,
Renewing once again the primal love,
The day of those espousals when the King
Chose his young bride from out the desert world,
And claimed her as His own. Oh, boundless joy!
Oh, day long looked for! worth the price we pay,
The penalty of exile, hunger, shame,
If only it may come in all its peace,
In brightness as the morning.