The Gospel Miracles :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Woe unto thee, Chorazin! woe to thee,
Bethsaida! works of wonder, such as ye,
Had Tyre and Sidon witness'd, they had spread
Their loins with sackcloth, and with dust their head.

And thou, Capernaum, who exaltest high
Thy head to heav'n, thou low as hell shalt lie!
Had Sodom witness'd wonders, such as thou,
Safe from the fiery flood Sodom had flourish'd now.”

Great works and wonderful 'twas yours to see
Wrought in your coasts, ye towns of Galilee;
But chiefly thine, thou of the silver spring!
What time, Capernaum, heav'n's incarnate King
Chose 'mid thy gorgeous domes his mean abode:
Great works and full of wonder there he show'd;
But work more great and full of wonder none,
Than that which cloth'd with health the noble courtier's son.

On life's last edge, relentless fever's prey,
Stretch'd on his couch the youthful patient lay.
Prepar'd to catch the spirit's parting sigh,
And raise the wailing of the funeral cry,
Around his bed friends, kinsmen, servants stand,
Mark the pale lips, glaz'd eye, and burning hand;
Tell each faint flutter, as the moments past,
Faint and more faint, and think that each will be the last.

But what their transport! what their deep surprise!
Light in a moment kindles in his eyes:
His livid lip resumes its roseate hue;
And the warm blood, as well-tun'd musick true,
Beats calm and strong. O'erjoy'd, o'eraw'd, they see
The work surpassing nature's energy:
The effect they note: but none perceives or knows
How that effect is wrought, or whence the blessing flows.

The self-same hour, which saw the fever quell'd
Forsake the son, the anxious sire beheld
In Cana far away. There had he pray'd
The Lord of Life his dying child to aid:
There heard the Lord's rebuke, “Except ye see
Signs and strange portents, ye believe not me:”
And there in bitterness of grief had said,
“Make haste, O Lord, to come, or ere my son be dead.”

That self-same moment heard the Saviour say,
“Thy son is living: rise, and go thy way.”
He rose; the word believ'd; his way he went;
Till, homeward journeying, on the mountain's bent
“Thy son is living” met in sounds of joy
His raptur'd ear; and soon his darling boy
He clasp'd, like Isaac, from the grave receiv'd,
And in the Saviour's truth he and his house believ'd.

'Tis sweet, but mix'd with sadness, to behold
The agreeing faith of that domestick fold:
Sweet to behold all those, whom God hath join'd
In one abode, in one pure faith combin'd;
But sad the thought, amid those works of might,
Which spoke the fulness of paternal right,
Of unbelief how wide the deluge spread,
And call'd destruction down on proud Capernaum's head.

I marvel not, that when the father heard
The clear fulfilment of the Saviour's word,
The hope, tho' mingled with misgivings weak,
Which bade him aid in distant Cana seek,
To Christian faith by quick gradation grew;
Fast fix'd on Him, whose will by proof he knew
O'er space and time supreme, and instant death,
The sinking frame to raise, and stay the fleeting breath.

Nor marvel I, that he, who felt his heart
By truth enlighten'd, should the bliss impart
To his lov'd household; or that they, whose eyes
Beheld, as from the sepulchre, arise
Disease's victim, and in health rejoice,
Rous'd by the touch of that electrick voice;
Should to the father's creed their suffrage yield,
And nature's Lord avow, who nature's power could wield.

'Twere marvel more, save that the human mind,
By passion weak, by prepossession blind,
Perverse, and wedded to the deeds of night,
Rejects the day-spring of unwelcome light;
'Twere marvel thou, Capernaum, wouldst not see
Whence came the mighty wonders wrought in thee;
But choose thy portion in the threaten'd “woe,”
Thy harden'd heart denounc'd, thy reckless pride laid low.

Low art thou laid! Along Gennesaret's shore
The curious pilgrim marks thy site no more,
Unless perchance some lonely sheds may claim
The sad memorial of thy vaunted name.
That name meanwhile the Saviour's sacred page
From clime to clime transmits, from age to age,
Presumption's check, to warn the startled sense
'Gainst wilful unbelief, and hard impenitence.

Nor less, thy inmate in those guilty days,
That page the “noble courtier's” faith portrays;
That he, who reads the tale, therein may read,
He and his house, their duty and their meed:
See signs and portents stamp Messiah's claim;
Perceive his might, at hand, afar, the same;
And mark how faith, by prompt obedience shewn,
The approving Saviour loves with gifts of health to own.

Lord, may I still, howe'er remote thou seem,
In danger's hour at hand thy presence deem;
Still at thy feet in faith my sorrows lay,
Thy pow'r acknowledge, and thy will obey;
Still in thy works of daily bounty prove
The signs and wonders of preserving love;
Escape the unbeliever's threaten'd woe,
I and my house, and Thee our Lord and Saviour know!