 | Poems and Essays of a Miscellaneous Character on Subjects of General Interest |  |
145
Sacred Poetry
ICHABOD.
A panting messenger of woe and dread,His garments torn, and dust upon his head,
His wounded feet with blood and travel stained,
From Israel's camp hath Shiloh's city gained.
With throbbing, bursting heart, and blood-shot eye;
With reeling step, and clench'd hands tossed on high;
With sobbing, gasping breath, he told his tale—
When loud to heaven arose the shrieking wail
Of thousand voices; anguish, and despair,
And sense of God-bereavement mingled there!
An aged priest sits watching by the road,
His sad heart trembling for the ark of God—
He starts! he calls!—for on his listening ear
Rise sounds and cries of more than mortal fear;
His eyes are dim, and on his reverend head
Well nigh a century's hoary snows are shed.
He comes in haste, that messenger of fear—
“My awful tidings, priest and father, hear!
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“What is there done, my son? speak quickly, say?”
He trembling said, with voice of faltering dread.
“Before the foe hath Israel's armies fled—
Great was the slaughter there. How shall I tell
Thee, weeping sire, thy priestly children fell?
By heathen hands they died, and woe! Oh woe!
The ark of God is taken.” Fatal blow!
It smote upon his heart; he backward fell.
'Twas not the death of sons he loved too well,
Nor kindred's blood, nor Israel's thousands slain:
“The ark of God is taken,” scorched his brain—
That flash electric. Thus the judge and priest
Of Israel died, nor yet the tidings ceased
Their work of doom. Thou daughter, mother, wife,
Who in thy bosom bore a two-fold life,
In nature's hour of anguish most extreme,
Thou bow'dst thy fainting head; such tidings seem
Too monstrous for belief. The failing tide
Of life is fast receding; to her side
The weeping females press, and “Fear not thou;
A son is born.” The shadow on her brow,
The seal of death grew darker, answer none,
Nor token of regard she gave. Her son,
In dying accents, she Ichabod named.
This tribute Israel's parted glories claimed.
Even in that hour, bereft of mortal stay,
Her husband, father, given to death a prey,
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A woe to which even God denied relief,
Hath cleft her heart, and this the cureless woe,
“The ark of God is taken.” Let me go
To God himself; I would not longer stay;
I'll seek him in the heaven of heavens. Away
Her soaring spirit mounts the heavenward road;
She lost the ark, but found the living God.
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THE DEATH OF STEPHEN.
O power invincible of faith and love,
Like angel rising to his home above,
Thy heaven-lit features beam, calm, earnest grace,
Firm truth, and holy zeal illume thy face!
'Neath your stern gaze he quails not, men of doom;
From Israel's history back he rolls the gloom
Of ages, draws in characters of flame
Her lineage, bondage, liberty, and shame.
Methinks I see thee with thine eyes upturned—
Those eyes where all the saint and martyr burned—
To Him most high, whose temple is all space,
Nor human minds can bound His dwelling-place—
To Him who fills by right th' eternal throne,
And for His footstool claims the earth alone—
Creator, God, by whose all-forming hand
All things were made in ocean, air, and land.
Like angel rising to his home above,
Thy heaven-lit features beam, calm, earnest grace,
Firm truth, and holy zeal illume thy face!
'Neath your stern gaze he quails not, men of doom;
From Israel's history back he rolls the gloom
Of ages, draws in characters of flame
Her lineage, bondage, liberty, and shame.
Methinks I see thee with thine eyes upturned—
Those eyes where all the saint and martyr burned—
To Him most high, whose temple is all space,
Nor human minds can bound His dwelling-place—
To Him who fills by right th' eternal throne,
And for His footstool claims the earth alone—
Creator, God, by whose all-forming hand
All things were made in ocean, air, and land.
Thus Stephen spake:—
“O ye uncircumcised in ears and heart!
Who tread your fathers' footsteps, act their part;
A stiff, unbending, blind, rebellious race,
Who grieve the Spirit, and resist His grace!
Which of the prophets have ye not withstood?
Have ye not prison'd, tortur'd, shed their blood,
Who showed the coming of that holiest One—
Messiah, Jesus, God's eternal Son?
Of whom betrayers, murderers ye have been!
Oh, bloody race of hands and hearts unclean!
From God Himself the law to you was given
By hands of angels, ministers from heaven—
How have ye kept it? Page inspired proclaim
True record of your folly, guilt, and shame!”
“O ye uncircumcised in ears and heart!
Who tread your fathers' footsteps, act their part;
A stiff, unbending, blind, rebellious race,
Who grieve the Spirit, and resist His grace!
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Have ye not prison'd, tortur'd, shed their blood,
Who showed the coming of that holiest One—
Messiah, Jesus, God's eternal Son?
Of whom betrayers, murderers ye have been!
Oh, bloody race of hands and hearts unclean!
From God Himself the law to you was given
By hands of angels, ministers from heaven—
How have ye kept it? Page inspired proclaim
True record of your folly, guilt, and shame!”
As lion crouching in the traveller's path
Lashes his tawny sides in savage wrath—
Watches with glaring eyes his victim near,
Then springs with foaming jaws his prey to tear—
They gnash their teeth; they rush upon him, wild
With vengeful hate—he, heavenward gazing, smiled.
Full of the Holy Ghost, to him 'twas given
To see unfold the pearly gates of heaven—
Behold the glory of the highest One,
And see on His right hand th' incarnate Son!
With furious cries they stop their ears; they run
With one accord upon him. Now begun
The work of death; for, lo! they drag, they cast
Him forth the city gates; and thick and fast
They ply the murderous missiles. Bruised to death,
But calling still on God with fainting breath—
“Receive my spirit, Jesus, Lord,” he sighed;
Then kneeling down, aloud to God he cried—
“Lord, lay not to their charge this sin; forgive,
Even for His sake who died that they might live.”
O words! O scene! might “make ev'n angels weep!”
He said, then calm in Jesus fell asleep.
Lashes his tawny sides in savage wrath—
Watches with glaring eyes his victim near,
Then springs with foaming jaws his prey to tear—
They gnash their teeth; they rush upon him, wild
With vengeful hate—he, heavenward gazing, smiled.
Full of the Holy Ghost, to him 'twas given
To see unfold the pearly gates of heaven—
Behold the glory of the highest One,
And see on His right hand th' incarnate Son!
With furious cries they stop their ears; they run
With one accord upon him. Now begun
The work of death; for, lo! they drag, they cast
Him forth the city gates; and thick and fast
They ply the murderous missiles. Bruised to death,
But calling still on God with fainting breath—
“Receive my spirit, Jesus, Lord,” he sighed;
Then kneeling down, aloud to God he cried—
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Even for His sake who died that they might live.”
O words! O scene! might “make ev'n angels weep!”
He said, then calm in Jesus fell asleep.
But who is he around whose feet are piled
The murderers' garments? he hath not defiled
His hands with martyr's blood; yet mark his eye,
Where flash the fires of genius, even his high
And intellectual brow, on which enshrined
Sit learning, eloquence, and powerful mind,
Give token all this murderous deed received
His full consent. He hath not yet believed,
Jesus of Nazareth, in thy name; but mad
With persecuting zeal, he seeks to add
A thousand martyrs, breathing slaughter still;
Makes havoc of the Church; the prisons fill;
The Christians scatter, who, dispersed abroad,
Proclaim in every place the Word of God.
The murderers' garments? he hath not defiled
His hands with martyr's blood; yet mark his eye,
Where flash the fires of genius, even his high
And intellectual brow, on which enshrined
Sit learning, eloquence, and powerful mind,
Give token all this murderous deed received
His full consent. He hath not yet believed,
Jesus of Nazareth, in thy name; but mad
With persecuting zeal, he seeks to add
A thousand martyrs, breathing slaughter still;
Makes havoc of the Church; the prisons fill;
The Christians scatter, who, dispersed abroad,
Proclaim in every place the Word of God.
But soon, O Saul! from yon refulgent skies
A blinding glory shall eclipse thine eyes,
And bathe in living light thy new-born soul;
And thou shalt run the race and gain the goal
Of Christian martyr, preaching first the faith
Which once thou persecutedst to the death.
Thy name, thy nature, and thy mission changed,
Thus, martyr'd Stephen, thus wert thou avenged.
A blinding glory shall eclipse thine eyes,
And bathe in living light thy new-born soul;
And thou shalt run the race and gain the goal
Of Christian martyr, preaching first the faith
Which once thou persecutedst to the death.
Thy name, thy nature, and thy mission changed,
Thus, martyr'd Stephen, thus wert thou avenged.
151
LINES ON'THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER.
My Mother! O my Mother! when thy spirit heavenward fled,
And thy aged form, in death's embrace, lay on thy lonely bed;
No hand to raise thy head and wipe the death-drops from thy brow,
Or o'er thee breathe a weeping prayer—alone with Death wert thou.
And thy aged form, in death's embrace, lay on thy lonely bed;
No hand to raise thy head and wipe the death-drops from thy brow,
Or o'er thee breathe a weeping prayer—alone with Death wert thou.
Yet not alone! for in thy ear, and on thy glazing eye,
Were angel whispers breathed, and dawned the Sun of Glory's sky;
And when thy daughter stood and gazed upon thy tranquil face,
It seemed to her thy features wore a calm celestial grace.
Were angel whispers breathed, and dawned the Sun of Glory's sky;
And when thy daughter stood and gazed upon thy tranquil face,
It seemed to her thy features wore a calm celestial grace.
Thy ardent prayers, thy tender cares, thy deep and patient love,
How dearly prized—how sorely missed since thou wert called above!
For I, a mother, bend beneath a mother's heavy cares,
And still I ask of Heaven to reap the fruit of Mother's prayers.
How dearly prized—how sorely missed since thou wert called above!
For I, a mother, bend beneath a mother's heavy cares,
And still I ask of Heaven to reap the fruit of Mother's prayers.
When trials crowd, and sorrows press, and fears my bosom chill,
My Mother, then I seem to hear thy loving accents still;
And still it seems as if to thee my sorrows I must tell—
Oh joy, we soon shall meet! till then, my Mother, fare thee well!
My Mother, then I seem to hear thy loving accents still;
And still it seems as if to thee my sorrows I must tell—
Oh joy, we soon shall meet! till then, my Mother, fare thee well!
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“GOD IS DEPARTED FROM ME, AND ANSWERETH ME NO MORE.”
A King has sought at midnight hour
The sorceress in her cell,
And bids invoke the Prophet's shade,
His coming doom to tell.
He bows before the spectral form,
He speaks in anguish sore—
“God is departed from me,
And answereth me no more.”
The sorceress in her cell,
And bids invoke the Prophet's shade,
His coming doom to tell.
He bows before the spectral form,
He speaks in anguish sore—
“God is departed from me,
And answereth me no more.”
Dark words—how pregnant with despair!
How fraught with hopeless woe!
Stern spake the spirit-seer—“What hope
When God He is thy foe?
And wherefore seek to know thy doom,
For this thou knew'st before?
“ ‘God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more!’
How fraught with hopeless woe!
Stern spake the spirit-seer—“What hope
When God He is thy foe?
And wherefore seek to know thy doom,
For this thou knew'st before?
“ ‘God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more!’
“The word which God hath spoke by me
He hath confirmed and done—
He rends the kingdom from thy hand;
His own anointed one,
Even David, he shall fill thy throne;
Thy reign, thy life is o'er—
‘God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more!’
He hath confirmed and done—
He rends the kingdom from thy hand;
His own anointed one,
Even David, he shall fill thy throne;
Thy reign, thy life is o'er—
‘God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more!’
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“Since thou obey'dst not God, nor didst
His high behest fulfil,
He gives thy host, thy sons, thy life,
Up to the enemies' will.
Thy soul, ere midnight glooms again,
Shall wing th' eternal shore.
‘God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more.’”
His high behest fulfil,
He gives thy host, thy sons, thy life,
Up to the enemies' will.
Thy soul, ere midnight glooms again,
Shall wing th' eternal shore.
‘God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more.’”
He faints, he falls, on earth he lies,
That stately, peerless form,
Which oft had tower'd in Israel's van
And ruled in battles' storm.
Oh kingly oak! the thunder fires
Have scathed thine inmost core.
“God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more.”
That stately, peerless form,
Which oft had tower'd in Israel's van
And ruled in battles' storm.
Oh kingly oak! the thunder fires
Have scathed thine inmost core.
“God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more.”
Who runs may read this awful truth,
In lines of lightning traced,
The spoken, written Word of God,
Though trampled, scorn'd, defaced
By men of sin and pride, the earth
Shall burn, the heavens decay,
Ere Word of God, to man reveal'd,
Shall fail or pass away.
In lines of lightning traced,
The spoken, written Word of God,
Though trampled, scorn'd, defaced
By men of sin and pride, the earth
Shall burn, the heavens decay,
Ere Word of God, to man reveal'd,
Shall fail or pass away.
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A FAITHFUL MOTHER'S LOVE.
Dear child! a faithful mother's love
For thee will toil, and watch, and pray;
An angel hovering still above
Thy couch by night, thy steps by day.
For thee will toil, and watch, and pray;
An angel hovering still above
Thy couch by night, thy steps by day.
Oh think how oft thy lips have pressed
Her breast! how oft thine arms have clung
Around her neck, while to her heart
She clasped thee close, and sweetly sung!
Her breast! how oft thine arms have clung
Around her neck, while to her heart
She clasped thee close, and sweetly sung!
When fever's burning flush suffused
Thy cheek, and heaved thy panting chest,
Thou rest or refuge all refused
Save mother's arms and mother's breast.
Thy cheek, and heaved thy panting chest,
Thou rest or refuge all refused
Save mother's arms and mother's breast.
And she would sit with tangled hair,
With haggard cheek and heavy eyes,
Tend all thy wants with loving care,
And soothe thy pains and hush thy cries.
With haggard cheek and heavy eyes,
Tend all thy wants with loving care,
And soothe thy pains and hush thy cries.
And she would whisper in thy ear,
And press upon thy infant mind
The name, the love of Jesus dear,
And God, thy Father good and kind.
And press upon thy infant mind
The name, the love of Jesus dear,
And God, thy Father good and kind.
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The pouting lip, the pert reply,
The sullen brow, the stubborn will,
Will dim with tears thy mother's eye,
And her fond heart with anguish fill.
The sullen brow, the stubborn will,
Will dim with tears thy mother's eye,
And her fond heart with anguish fill.
The smiling lip, the ready yes,
The sunny brow of cheerful love;
What balm for mother's heart like this?
What dearer blessing can she prove?
The sunny brow of cheerful love;
What balm for mother's heart like this?
What dearer blessing can she prove?
Is she a widow? doubly dear
Be she to thee; when griefs assail,
Kiss thou away each mournful tear
That wanders down her cheek so pale.
Be she to thee; when griefs assail,
Kiss thou away each mournful tear
That wanders down her cheek so pale.
A faithful God, the first, the best—
The next a faithful mother's love;
Thou shalt, dear child, of these possessed,
Be safe on earth, and blest above.
The next a faithful mother's love;
Thou shalt, dear child, of these possessed,
Be safe on earth, and blest above.
| Poems and Essays of a Miscellaneous Character on Subjects of General Interest | |