University of Virginia Library

POOR IN SPIRIT.

FIRST BEATITUDE.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”—Matt. v. 3.

With awful gloom when Moses brought
The law of fire and flame,
Eternal Duty then was taught
In dread Jehovah's name.
But radiantly descendeth now
Deep wisdom from above;
For mildness clothes His gracious brow
Whose ev'ry line is love.
It was not thus the Type of old
Imperial Law declared,
When round Him pealing thunders roll'd
And red-wing'd lightnings glared.
The people shudder'd, like a leaf,
Amid their black'ning gloom;
And Conscience saw no just relief
Beyond, or in, the tomb.
But bright the contrast now appears,
When the mild Lord of grace
From you green Mount dispels all fears,
By His benignant face.
The breeze, soft lyrist of the spring,
Was harping o'er the flowers;
And humming bees upon the wing
Enjoy'd their golden hours;

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A vernal radiance threw its gleam
Of gladness o'er the hills;
While, rich as love-tones in a dream,
The gushing of the rills.
And like the season, so the Word
Was mild as mercy's breath;
No curse was in His counsel heard,
Nor doom of legal death.
That Christ, who came the lost to save,
With blessing did begin;
And thus from guilt, and death, and grave
Redeem'd the heart within.
Humility and meekness were
The groundwork Jesu laid;
And He, whose life was living prayer,
Their perfect types display'd.
All mental grace, all moral gift,
Whate'er men seek, or find,
Is blasted,—if it proudly lift
Or bloat the conscious mind.
Contingent, finite, from the dust,
What Nothings are we all!
For in the tomb the proudest must
A worm his brother call.
All pride becomes a fiendish spark
Of hell, within the soul;
And He who dreads that region dark,
Abhors its least control.
The poor in spirit, blest are they
Above the world who live;
Their wisdom is to watch and pray,
And, like their Lord, forgive.
Nor seek they for ambition's wealth,
Or sigh for world-applause;
But, calm in sickness as in health,
To Heaven commit their cause.
True meekness is that master-grace
Which saints and martyrs wore;—
Behold, who led proud Judah's race,
How mild a mien He bore!
We cannot back to God return
From the base depths of sin,
Until bencath the Cross we learn
To form the Christ within.
And was He not, of worlds the Lord,
In meckness all divine,
Who with each high and heavenly word
A lowly grace did twine?
A passion for imperfect good,—
Behold, what fosters pride;
While God Himself is thus withstood
No idols are denied.
But mortal, wouldst thou blessèd be?
From finite good retire;
And in the depths of Deity
Thy soaring thoughts inspire.
In humbleness of mind believe
A true contentment reigns,—
Desires which no compunction leave,
And joys that bring no pains.
Then turn thee, O earth-fever'd Soul!
From broken cisterns fly;
For couldst thou drink their blissful whole
They still would leave thee dry.
The utmost in all creatures fails
An inward lull to bring,
Since, when our purest dream prevails,
Unrest keeps murmuring.
Low as some weanèd child to lie
Before Emmanuel's feet,
And in the guidance of His eye
To find a safe retreat,
Like Him to crucify the will,
As mereiful and meek,
And each just orb of duty fill
Whene'er we act, or speak,—
Be this, disciple of the Cross!
The glory of thine aim;
And though on earth thou reap the loss,
In heaven perceive thy gain.
But, saith He not, that here below
Beatitudes begin,
For all whose hearts by meekness grow
Above the self of sin?
A kingdom of the mind is theirs
While yet on earth they bide;
And heaven seems dawning through the prayers
God's Spirit hath supplied.

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Celestial Dove of grace! descend,
Thy gentleness impart;
Till Faith shall build the “Sinner's friend”
A temple in her heart.