The Two Brothers, and other poems By Edward Henry Bickersteth |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. | IV.
THE PENITENT'S DEATH-BED. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
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 | The Two Brothers, and other poems |  |
206
IV. THE PENITENT'S DEATH-BED.
“As many as touched the hem of His garment were made perfectly whole.”
A cold and wild autumnal sky: the sun was sinking fast,
And bleakly blew o'er wood and wold the wintry northern blast;
The chill rain fell in sudden gusts, still drifting on and on,
The day had pass'd in storms, and night would now be here anon.
Around the far horizon's skirts despairing roved the eye,
When lo! a rainbow-fragment stamp'd upon that stormy sky.
Broken and quivering it lay, one little fragment given
From some few flickering beams of light far in the western heaven:
The trembling colours came and went, and fainter, brighter grew
Amid that wild untender sky, so tender and so true.
I just had left the dying bed of one who once had been
A wanderer from the Saviour's fold in the gloomy paths of sin—
A wreck of sweetness and of grace, a shade of beauty now,
Though Death had set its awful seal too plainly on her brow.
Oh, surely life to her had been a life of guilt and tears,
Of blighted hopes and shatter'd dreams, and storms of guilty fears!
But, on a sudden, in the midst of youth and pleasure's prime,
The icy blast of death blew keen athwart that summer clime.
The world's allurements shrivell'd then, like leaves in wind and frost,
And all its lying blandishments their sometime glory lost.
Earth trembled, and the sky was gloom, and all within was wild,
And death full quickly now would claim its own unhappy child.
Stay, list!—a sudden ray from heaven gleam'd in upon her cell:
“The Saviour”—eagerly she caught the accents as they fell—
“The Saviour came to save the lost—Jesus for sinners died.”
“For sinners?—Oh, the worst am I of sinners,” she replied.
“Then cast on Him thy load of guilt—He bids thee come and live.”
“I cannot, yet I would,” she cried; “Lord, hear me, Lord, forgive!”
And bleakly blew o'er wood and wold the wintry northern blast;
The chill rain fell in sudden gusts, still drifting on and on,
The day had pass'd in storms, and night would now be here anon.
Around the far horizon's skirts despairing roved the eye,
When lo! a rainbow-fragment stamp'd upon that stormy sky.
Broken and quivering it lay, one little fragment given
From some few flickering beams of light far in the western heaven:
The trembling colours came and went, and fainter, brighter grew
Amid that wild untender sky, so tender and so true.
207
A wanderer from the Saviour's fold in the gloomy paths of sin—
A wreck of sweetness and of grace, a shade of beauty now,
Though Death had set its awful seal too plainly on her brow.
Oh, surely life to her had been a life of guilt and tears,
Of blighted hopes and shatter'd dreams, and storms of guilty fears!
But, on a sudden, in the midst of youth and pleasure's prime,
The icy blast of death blew keen athwart that summer clime.
The world's allurements shrivell'd then, like leaves in wind and frost,
And all its lying blandishments their sometime glory lost.
Earth trembled, and the sky was gloom, and all within was wild,
And death full quickly now would claim its own unhappy child.
208
“The Saviour”—eagerly she caught the accents as they fell—
“The Saviour came to save the lost—Jesus for sinners died.”
“For sinners?—Oh, the worst am I of sinners,” she replied.
“Then cast on Him thy load of guilt—He bids thee come and live.”
“I cannot, yet I would,” she cried; “Lord, hear me, Lord, forgive!”
It was not peace, it was not light, nor was it all despair,
And pointing her to Jesus still, I left her after prayer.
It was not sunshine, nor the joy of heaven's own glorious bow,
Yet surely one true little gleam of mercy amid woe,—
One fragmentary rainbow-spot that might grow brighter yet,
And faintly promised better things before the sun was set.
And pointing her to Jesus still, I left her after prayer.
It was not sunshine, nor the joy of heaven's own glorious bow,
Yet surely one true little gleam of mercy amid woe,—
One fragmentary rainbow-spot that might grow brighter yet,
And faintly promised better things before the sun was set.
Banningham, 1848.
| The Two Brothers, and other poems | |