Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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A THEOPHANY. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
A THEOPHANY.
O, it may be in the morning, and it may be in the eve—He will surely on me rise
Like the sun, but in adorning which will set not or deceive,
With a glad and soft surprise;
And the passing of His feet will be beautiful and sweet,
When it strikes my waiting heart
In its watching drawn apart
From the turmoil of the traffic and the murmur of the mart.
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Where He spreads their humble feasts,
And the reckless one and stranger to His love shall see at last
The bright shadow in the manger by His blessed glory cast,
In His thought for even cattle which about his business go
When the shafts of winter rattle on the shield of frozen snow;
And the path for years so prayerless in its pride and cold and careless,
Shall beneath His presence glow.
He is coming, for I hear Him
Through the clangour and the dust
Of the world so very near Him—
And yet exiled by distrust;
But from faith that is adoring He will never be concealed,
Though their darkness dazzle some,
And to words of true imploring He delights to be revealed—
He is coming, He will come.
Lo, the linnet from the moorland chirrupt, “Here's a little Christ,
And I simply ask a crumb.”
While the pauper in his poorland said, “I cannot be sufficed,
And these hands are Christ's and numb.”
O the enemy whose hate is my early grief and late,
Muttered low beneath His breath;
“Though I have desired thy death,
Yet I feel the Christ within me, and He stands outside thy gate.”
Then my broken bread, in token of His love I scattered free
To His birds a willing fee,
And up leapt their tiny voices in one carol calm and gay
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And the beggar at my giving thawed with gratitude, and took
Heart of grace in grander living and a conqueror's proud look;
And the foe, whom in my blindness I had scouted with unkindness,
Chose the friend he long forsook.
He is coming on the river,
He is coming to the shore
In His goodness to deliver
Men who make their bondage more;
In the faintest, feeblest turning as of tendrils to the morn,
He is calling—He is come;
And of every better yearning He in purity is born,
Who's all Blessing and our Home.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |