 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
562
Jacob wrestling with the Angel
The Patriarch wrestled with the angel long,For though of mortal race, yet he was strong;
Nor would release him at the break of day,
That he might take his upward, heavenly way.
Bless me, he cried, ere I shall let thee go,
Thou art an angel, and no mortal foe;
Who, through the night's dark hours, couldst thus maintain
With me a contest on the starry plain.
What is thy name? the angel asked again,
For thou hast power alike with God, and men.
Jacob, he said. The angel blessed him there,
Henceforth the name of Israel thou shalt bear;
Thou hast prevailed, thou art a Prince indeed,
A blessing rest on thee, and on thy seed.
Deem not that to those ancient times belong
The wonders told in history, and in song;
Men may with angels now, as then, prevail;
Too oft, alas! they in the contest fail.
Their blessed help is not from man withdrawn,
Contend thou with the angel till the dawn;
A blessing he to earth for thee doth bring,
Then back to heaven again his flight will wing.
Poem No. 538; date unknown
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |