 | Sonnets and Other Poems Chiefly Religious |  |
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SAINT JOHN AT EPHESUS.
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This poem is written on the supposition, which on the whole appears the most probable, that the fourth Gospel and the Apocalypse are both the work of the Beloved Disciple, and that the Apocalypse is by many years the earlier of the two.
The Lord of Glory said not, “John shall live
Till in the clouds of heaven I come again;”
He only said, “What matters it to thee,
O Peter, who shalt glorify thy God,
Like Me, upon a cross, if John shall wait
My coming?” And indeed I cannot tell
What those words mean, although for threescore years
I have held communion with the Lord on high;
And seen His face which shineth as the sun
Shines in his strength; and heard His voice which sounds
Like many waters;—and He gave me words
Which, as ye know, I treasured up, and wrote
In seven Epistles to your Churches seven;—
And then He sent me visions of the night,
And I beheld the doom of Babylon,
The end of time, the harvest of the world;
And sin and death and hell I saw consume
And vanish in the fiery wrath of God.
Till in the clouds of heaven I come again;”
He only said, “What matters it to thee,
O Peter, who shalt glorify thy God,
Like Me, upon a cross, if John shall wait
My coming?” And indeed I cannot tell
What those words mean, although for threescore years
I have held communion with the Lord on high;
And seen His face which shineth as the sun
Shines in his strength; and heard His voice which sounds
Like many waters;—and He gave me words
Which, as ye know, I treasured up, and wrote
In seven Epistles to your Churches seven;—
And then He sent me visions of the night,
And I beheld the doom of Babylon,
The end of time, the harvest of the world;
And sin and death and hell I saw consume
And vanish in the fiery wrath of God.
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And then the visions ceased, but I became
Nearer the Lord than ever; yet more near
Than when I leaned at supper on His breast;
And higher in His grace than when I stood
With James and Peter on the Holy Mount,
And saw the heavenly glory of the Lord;
For by His Spirit now He dwells with me,
And makes me wiser than the saints of old;
For many a prophet, many a saint, has longed
To know and feel what Christ reveals to me,
The crowning truth of all, that God is love.
Nearer the Lord than ever; yet more near
Than when I leaned at supper on His breast;
And higher in His grace than when I stood
With James and Peter on the Holy Mount,
And saw the heavenly glory of the Lord;
For by His Spirit now He dwells with me,
And makes me wiser than the saints of old;
For many a prophet, many a saint, has longed
To know and feel what Christ reveals to me,
The crowning truth of all, that God is love.
But when He cometh, hath been told to none.
For many a year, we deemed He would descend
Before our generation passed away,
Robed with the Father's glory, in the clouds;
And oft I thought on those who died for Him;
On Peter, crucified;—the cross is now
A sign of glory, not a thing of shame;—
On James my brother, slain by Herod's sword;
On James the brother of the Lord, thrown down
From off the Temple's roof; on Paul, who toiled
Most of us all for Christ, and died beneath
The sword of Cæsar; and on those at Rome
Who, like Elijah, passed to God in fire;
And Stephen, who was first to die for Christ;—
I saw him stoned; a glory from the Lord
Fell on his face; the highest height of heaven
Was opened to his vision, and he saw
The Son of Man beside the throne of God
Standing—not seated—standing up to greet
His martyr's entrance into heavenly bliss.
For many a year, we deemed He would descend
Before our generation passed away,
Robed with the Father's glory, in the clouds;
And oft I thought on those who died for Him;
On Peter, crucified;—the cross is now
A sign of glory, not a thing of shame;—
On James my brother, slain by Herod's sword;
On James the brother of the Lord, thrown down
From off the Temple's roof; on Paul, who toiled
Most of us all for Christ, and died beneath
The sword of Cæsar; and on those at Rome
Who, like Elijah, passed to God in fire;
And Stephen, who was first to die for Christ;—
I saw him stoned; a glory from the Lord
Fell on his face; the highest height of heaven
Was opened to his vision, and he saw
The Son of Man beside the throne of God
Standing—not seated—standing up to greet
His martyr's entrance into heavenly bliss.
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And when I thought on these, I said, “O Lord
Jesus, come quickly! wherefore tarriest Thou?
Wherefore must I, who was the best beloved,
Who on the Mount saw Thy transfigured form,
Leaned at the farewell supper on Thy breast,
And to Thy mother was indeed a son,—
Wherefore should I be last to see my God?”
Jesus, come quickly! wherefore tarriest Thou?
Wherefore must I, who was the best beloved,
Who on the Mount saw Thy transfigured form,
Leaned at the farewell supper on Thy breast,
And to Thy mother was indeed a son,—
Wherefore should I be last to see my God?”
Long was I bound to earth by her whom Christ
Gave to my care—His mother, thenceforth mine.
So deep the sword had entered in her heart,
She could not live among the haunts of men;
Jerusalem, Capernaum, Nazareth,—
All cities were alike—all crowds seemed full
Of pointing fingers and of gazing eyes,
Whether of friends or foes. Apart we dwelt
Beside untrodden ways. A messenger
Would sometimes come to tell us how the Church
Suffered or prospered, and how men believed
In Antioch, or in Ephesus, or in Rome.
My spirit burned with longing to proclaim
Jesus the Christ to Israel's scattered tribes,
And to the heathen; but the Mother's mind
With sad and holy memories of the past
Was full to overflowing. She recalled
The Saviour's three and thirty sinless years;
The hope of kingdoms, ending in the Cross;
The Resurrection, and the words He spake,
Mysterious, brief, unsatisfying; and then
The Ascension to the Father, leaving us
As those who mourn the Bridegroom; and her thought
Was ever, “When will He in might return,
And heal the aching sorrow of my soul?”
With weary longing of a lonely heart
She slowly pined. I watched her wasted form
Till I beheld a glory on her brow
As of the woman whom, in after-days,
I saw in heavenly vision, crowned with stars,
Robed with the sun, the moon beneath her feet.
And so the Virgin Mother, full of years,
Of honours, and of sorrows, passed away.
Alone I buried her, and thanked my God
That she was with her Lord in Paradise,
And I was free to serve Him in the world.
Gave to my care—His mother, thenceforth mine.
So deep the sword had entered in her heart,
She could not live among the haunts of men;
Jerusalem, Capernaum, Nazareth,—
All cities were alike—all crowds seemed full
Of pointing fingers and of gazing eyes,
Whether of friends or foes. Apart we dwelt
Beside untrodden ways. A messenger
Would sometimes come to tell us how the Church
Suffered or prospered, and how men believed
In Antioch, or in Ephesus, or in Rome.
My spirit burned with longing to proclaim
Jesus the Christ to Israel's scattered tribes,
And to the heathen; but the Mother's mind
With sad and holy memories of the past
Was full to overflowing. She recalled
The Saviour's three and thirty sinless years;
The hope of kingdoms, ending in the Cross;
The Resurrection, and the words He spake,
Mysterious, brief, unsatisfying; and then
The Ascension to the Father, leaving us
As those who mourn the Bridegroom; and her thought
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And heal the aching sorrow of my soul?”
With weary longing of a lonely heart
She slowly pined. I watched her wasted form
Till I beheld a glory on her brow
As of the woman whom, in after-days,
I saw in heavenly vision, crowned with stars,
Robed with the sun, the moon beneath her feet.
And so the Virgin Mother, full of years,
Of honours, and of sorrows, passed away.
Alone I buried her, and thanked my God
That she was with her Lord in Paradise,
And I was free to serve Him in the world.
But now I know what work for me was left;—
Even the Gospel which my willing scribe
This day has finished. And I now surmise
The coming of the Lord in clouds of heaven
Draweth not nigh. A thousand years with God
Are but a day, and but a watch of night.
And it may be, that yet a thousand years
The Saviour purposeth to train His saints
In patient expectation. Blest are they
Who learn in silent patience to endure;
Endurance worketh hope. Perhaps the book
Which thou, my scribe, hast finished even now,
May be a light through agelong nights of earth,
To witness of the Spirit and the Bride.
Even the Gospel which my willing scribe
This day has finished. And I now surmise
The coming of the Lord in clouds of heaven
Draweth not nigh. A thousand years with God
Are but a day, and but a watch of night.
And it may be, that yet a thousand years
The Saviour purposeth to train His saints
In patient expectation. Blest are they
Who learn in silent patience to endure;
Endurance worketh hope. Perhaps the book
Which thou, my scribe, hast finished even now,
May be a light through agelong nights of earth,
To witness of the Spirit and the Bride.
What once an angel told me, I repeat—
Guard ye the oil and wine! —the wine of Christ,
Which is His life, poured out upon the Cross
To save the world of sinners;—and the oil,
Which is the Holy Spirit, with His gifts
Of light and healing;—see ye keep your lamps
Burning, until the Sun of Righteousness
Arise at last, with healing in His beams.
Guard ye the oil and wine! —the wine of Christ,
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To save the world of sinners;—and the oil,
Which is the Holy Spirit, with His gifts
Of light and healing;—see ye keep your lamps
Burning, until the Sun of Righteousness
Arise at last, with healing in His beams.
To me the times and seasons matter not.
If in the Father's glory Christ appear
While yet I dwell on earth, to me He comes.
But if He cometh in the guise of death,
I shall but fall asleep, and wake refreshed,
And see Him in His glory as He is,
And bear His image, and be satisfied.
If in the Father's glory Christ appear
While yet I dwell on earth, to me He comes.
But if He cometh in the guise of death,
I shall but fall asleep, and wake refreshed,
And see Him in His glory as He is,
And bear His image, and be satisfied.
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