 | Sacred Poems |  |
73
CHRIST BLESSING LITTLE CHILDREN.
“Then were there brought unto him little children, that he should put his hands on them, and pray: and the disciples rebuked them.
“But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.”—
Matthew xix 13, 14.“At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?
“And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them,
“And said, Verily, I say unto you, Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
“Whosoever, therefore, shall humble himself as this little child, the same is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”—
Matthew xviii. 1–4.
The errand upon earth was well nigh done.
A little more, and that dread passer-on—
Time, that not even at the Cross stood still—
Must come, with Calvary's ninth hour. And Christ
Turn'd tow'rd Jerusalem. Galilee was sweet,
With its fair Mount, that was the step of heaven—
(Whereon He had but just now stood, and through
The door flung open to the throne of God,
Drank strength in the transfiguring light)—and here
Dwelt Mary, holy mother; and 'twas here
His childhood had been passed; and here the life
E'en Christ must learn to love, to be “like us,”
Had been most sweet to him. But not where life
So gently beautiful is known—oh, not
Where Nature with her calm rebuke is heard—
Could the Great Wrong be done! in Mammon's mar:—
The crowded city, where the small, still voice
Is, like the leaf's low whisper, overborne—
Where the dark shadow, which before us falls
When we are turning from the light away,
Seems at another's feet and not our own—
Where, 'mid the multitude's bewildering shout,
Anguish may moan unheedly and even
Lama sabacthani go up unheard—
There, only, could the Son of God be slain!
And when to his disciples Jesus said
“Behold, we go up to Jerusalem,”
Then turned His path from peaceful Galilee;
Thence—to the scourge, the buffet, and the scorn,
Gethsemane's last conflict, and the Cross—
The meek first step to Calvary was there!
A little more, and that dread passer-on—
Time, that not even at the Cross stood still—
Must come, with Calvary's ninth hour. And Christ
Turn'd tow'rd Jerusalem. Galilee was sweet,
With its fair Mount, that was the step of heaven—
(Whereon He had but just now stood, and through
The door flung open to the throne of God,
Drank strength in the transfiguring light)—and here
Dwelt Mary, holy mother; and 'twas here
74
E'en Christ must learn to love, to be “like us,”
Had been most sweet to him. But not where life
So gently beautiful is known—oh, not
Where Nature with her calm rebuke is heard—
Could the Great Wrong be done! in Mammon's mar:—
The crowded city, where the small, still voice
Is, like the leaf's low whisper, overborne—
Where the dark shadow, which before us falls
When we are turning from the light away,
Seems at another's feet and not our own—
Where, 'mid the multitude's bewildering shout,
Anguish may moan unheedly and even
Lama sabacthani go up unheard—
There, only, could the Son of God be slain!
And when to his disciples Jesus said
“Behold, we go up to Jerusalem,”
Then turned His path from peaceful Galilee;
Thence—to the scourge, the buffet, and the scorn,
Gethsemane's last conflict, and the Cross—
The meek first step to Calvary was there!
And Christ passed over Jordan, to the coast
Of populous Judea; and there came
Multitudes to Him, listening as He taught,
And wondering at His miracles; for lo!
His calm word healed all sicknesses; the blind
Rose up and gazed upon the luminous brow
Whose glory had shone through their darkened lids;
The dumb spoke; and the leper became clean;
And devils were cast out which had defied
The word of His disciples. With new awe,
Touched with compassionating love, looked these
Upon their Master now; for, near at hand,
They felt the shadow of His coming hour.
And though His face shone, with the strength new given
By the celestial sacrament of light
Upon the Mount administered, they still
Trembled, as men, for One who, as a man,
Must pass through death—death of such agony
As for a world's transgressions might atone—
Whose bitter cup even the Son of God
Must shrink from, with a prayer that it might pass!
Of populous Judea; and there came
Multitudes to Him, listening as He taught,
And wondering at His miracles; for lo!
His calm word healed all sicknesses; the blind
Rose up and gazed upon the luminous brow
Whose glory had shone through their darkened lids;
The dumb spoke; and the leper became clean;
75
The word of His disciples. With new awe,
Touched with compassionating love, looked these
Upon their Master now; for, near at hand,
They felt the shadow of His coming hour.
And though His face shone, with the strength new given
By the celestial sacrament of light
Upon the Mount administered, they still
Trembled, as men, for One who, as a man,
Must pass through death—death of such agony
As for a world's transgressions might atone—
Whose bitter cup even the Son of God
Must shrink from, with a prayer that it might pass!
Christ had told o'er His sorrows, to the end.
They knew what must befall. In silence sad,
Listened the Twelve, while jeered the Pharisee,
And tempted Him the Scribe—for so must He
To His last victory come; but eager still,
Looked they where they might minister to Him,
Or, watchfully, from that dark path of woe,
Pluck out the needless thorn.
They knew what must befall. In silence sad,
Listened the Twelve, while jeered the Pharisee,
And tempted Him the Scribe—for so must He
To His last victory come; but eager still,
Looked they where they might minister to Him,
Or, watchfully, from that dark path of woe,
Pluck out the needless thorn.
The eventide
Found Him among his questioners—the same;
Patient and meek as in the morning hour—
And while the Scribes, with His mild answers foiled,
Sat by and reasoned in their hearts, behold
There was a stir in the close multitude,
And voices pleaded to come nigh; and, straight,
The crowd divided, and a mother came,
Holding her babe before her, and on Christ
Fixing her moist eyes steadfastly. He turned,
Benignant, as she tremblingly came near;
And the sad earnestness His face had worn
While He disputed with the crafty scribes,
Was touched with the foreshadowing of a smile.
And, lo! another, and another still,
Led by this sweet encouragement to come,
Pressed where the first had made her trusting way;
And soon, a fair young company they stood—
A band, who (by a lamp of love, new lit,
And fed by oil of tenderness from Heaven—
By recognition, instinct as the eye
To know, 'mid clouds, the twinkle of a star—
By mother's love) knew what must holiest be,
And where to bring their children to be blest.
And as Christ looked upon them, where they stood,
And each would lay her infant in His arms,
To see it there, and know that He had borne
Her burden on His bosom, there rose up
Some of the Twelve; and, mindful of the night,
And of the trials of the weary day,
They came between, and bade them to depart,
And trouble not the Master. Then did Christ,
Reproving His disciples, call again
The mothers they had turned from Him away,
And, leaning gently tow'rd them as they came,
Tenderly took the babes unto His arms,
And laid His hand upon their foreheads fair,
And blest them, saying: Suffer them to come;
For, in my Father's kingdom, such are they.
Whoso is humble as a little child,
The same is greatest in the courts of heaven.
Spotless is infancy, we fondly feel.
Angels in heaven are like it, He hath said.
Mothers have dreamed the smile upon the lips
Of slumbering babes to be the memory
Of a bright world they come from; and that, here,
'Mid the temptations of this fallen star,
They bide the trial for a loftier sphere—
Ever progressing. Fearfully, if so,
Give we, to childhood, guidance for high heaven!
But, be this lofty vision as it may,
Christ blest them, here. And, oh! if in the hour
Of his first steps to Calvary, and 'mid
The tempters, who, He knew, had thus begun
The wrongs that were to lead Him to the cross;
If here, 'mid weariness and gathering woe,
The heart of Christ turned meltingly to them,
And, for a harsh word to these little ones,
Though uttered but with sheltering care for Him,
He spoke rebukingly to those He loved—
If babes thus pure and priceless were to Christ—
Holy, indeed, the trust to whom they're given!
Sacred are they!
Found Him among his questioners—the same;
Patient and meek as in the morning hour—
And while the Scribes, with His mild answers foiled,
Sat by and reasoned in their hearts, behold
There was a stir in the close multitude,
And voices pleaded to come nigh; and, straight,
76
Holding her babe before her, and on Christ
Fixing her moist eyes steadfastly. He turned,
Benignant, as she tremblingly came near;
And the sad earnestness His face had worn
While He disputed with the crafty scribes,
Was touched with the foreshadowing of a smile.
And, lo! another, and another still,
Led by this sweet encouragement to come,
Pressed where the first had made her trusting way;
And soon, a fair young company they stood—
A band, who (by a lamp of love, new lit,
And fed by oil of tenderness from Heaven—
By recognition, instinct as the eye
To know, 'mid clouds, the twinkle of a star—
By mother's love) knew what must holiest be,
And where to bring their children to be blest.
And as Christ looked upon them, where they stood,
And each would lay her infant in His arms,
To see it there, and know that He had borne
Her burden on His bosom, there rose up
Some of the Twelve; and, mindful of the night,
And of the trials of the weary day,
They came between, and bade them to depart,
And trouble not the Master. Then did Christ,
Reproving His disciples, call again
The mothers they had turned from Him away,
And, leaning gently tow'rd them as they came,
Tenderly took the babes unto His arms,
And laid His hand upon their foreheads fair,
77
For, in my Father's kingdom, such are they.
Whoso is humble as a little child,
The same is greatest in the courts of heaven.
Spotless is infancy, we fondly feel.
Angels in heaven are like it, He hath said.
Mothers have dreamed the smile upon the lips
Of slumbering babes to be the memory
Of a bright world they come from; and that, here,
'Mid the temptations of this fallen star,
They bide the trial for a loftier sphere—
Ever progressing. Fearfully, if so,
Give we, to childhood, guidance for high heaven!
But, be this lofty vision as it may,
Christ blest them, here. And, oh! if in the hour
Of his first steps to Calvary, and 'mid
The tempters, who, He knew, had thus begun
The wrongs that were to lead Him to the cross;
If here, 'mid weariness and gathering woe,
The heart of Christ turned meltingly to them,
And, for a harsh word to these little ones,
Though uttered but with sheltering care for Him,
He spoke rebukingly to those He loved—
If babes thus pure and priceless were to Christ—
Holy, indeed, the trust to whom they're given!
Sacred are they!
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