The Sanctuary :: :: University of Virginia Library

A creature on his own Creator's heart
Pillow'd in peace! —oh! spectacle divine
What Muse can sing how wonderful Thou art,
Though David melodised the matchless line,
Since God and man are so commingled there,
That Poesy is awed, and trembles into prayer!

Youngest of those discipled by the Lord,
And His beloved, by eminence supreme,—
Long as the Church can read the deathless Word,
Still may her faith, in fond devotion dream,
Emanuel's Heart within his Gospel beats,
Where ev'ry loving word Its throb of love repeats.

From that blest region, where his head reclined,
Close to the spring of everlasting Grace,
St. John hath utter'd, to entrance mankind,
Truths which eternity will not erase,—
Tones of celestial power, whose deep control
Wakes into wond'ring awe the echoes of the soul.

“Passing the love of woman,” chaste and pure
Glows the high zeal the friend of Jesus felt;
And, mild and maiden-like, his words allure
The yielding hearts their heaven-toned accents melt;

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And yet, at times, “The Son of thunder” speaks,
And lightning from the cloud of stormy language breaks!

But oh! the master-spell, is love divine
Born of the Breast Almighty, where he lay;
And, more than Seraphim beheld, alone
Our fallen world did gloriously display
When said the dying Saviour to St. John,
“Behold thy Mother there,—and, Mother, see thy Son!”

Woman! above all women raised, and blest,
From that dark scene of agony and dread
As home he took thee to thy shelt'ring rest,
How did he cling to what th' Incarnate said!—
How did he rev'rence, with an awful bliss,
And more than filial love, a dying charge like His.

And if, when living, to The Lord he clung
E'en like a shadow at His perill'd side,
Oft o'er those words his musing fondness hung,
The vestal Mother to that page supplied
Which pictures Jesus, as “The Holy Child”
Cradled in Virgin arms, adored, and undefiled.

Yes, long as pensive souls of peace and prayer
Yearn round The Cross, and near that Tomb, to be,
Where blending miracles of grace declare
Secrets enshrining Man's eternity,—
Divinest magic round St. John will draw
Saints who can witness there, with tenderness and awe,

The parting radiance of Christ's earthly life.—
He last beheld Him in this world of woe,
Ordain'd in mercy to outlive the strife
His infant Church was doom'd to face, and know,
And preach, through seventy years, that saving Word
Which “He, whom Jesus loved,” from Jesu's self had heard.

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Close to the Cross, he saw the Saviour die;
First to the Tomb, his holy fervour ran;
And, when he view'd Him on the vision'd sky
Unseal the volume of Redemption's plan,
How did his echoing heart exult to hymn
The myriad-voicèd chant of choral Seraphim!

And Thou, Who art of Souls the inward Sun,
Here while we “tarry,” let us dwell in Thee;
If soon, or late, life's destined course be run,
The motto of our faith is,—“follow Me!”
Not ours, but Thine, the future; dark or bright,
Enough for Saints to know, Thy secret will is right.

If exiled in some Patmos, sad, or lone,
Our God ordain that we must live and die,
Or preach, and perish, in far lands unknown,
With none to calm the heart, or close the eye,—
What matter, if, like John, we wait in peace,
And tarry, till He comes, our Glory and Release!

John xxi. 20.

2 Tim. i. 9.

John xix. 25 and 26.

Rev. v. 50.