The Gospel Miracles In A Series of Poetical Sketches: With Illustrative Conversations. By Richard Mant |
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THE BAND OF MEN AND OFFICERS—THE HIGHPRIEST'S SERVANT. |
 | The Gospel Miracles |  |
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THE BAND OF MEN AND OFFICERS—THE HIGHPRIEST'S SERVANT.
If e'er the Saviour's venerated form
A more than wonted majesty invest,
'Tis 'mid the darkness of affliction's storm,
By persecution's bitter blast distrest.
Have ye not seen, when clouds the sky deform,
How bright the sun emerging sinks to rest?
So from the deep array of grief which throws
Its gather'd blackness round “the man of woes,”
A radiance more divine his heavenly nature shows.
A more than wonted majesty invest,
'Tis 'mid the darkness of affliction's storm,
By persecution's bitter blast distrest.
Have ye not seen, when clouds the sky deform,
How bright the sun emerging sinks to rest?
So from the deep array of grief which throws
Its gather'd blackness round “the man of woes,”
A radiance more divine his heavenly nature shows.
Erewhile in pomp o'er Olivet he rode,
Of Judah's sons a countless concourse nigh;
Beneath his feet the crowd their garments strow'd,
And wav'd the palm-tree boughs in ecstacy;
In every face the gleam of rapture glow'd,
From every tongue was rais'd the joyous cry:
“Hosanna! Blest be royal David's heir!
Hosanna! Blest the King, Jehovah's care!”
And still, as on he went, Hosanna fill'd the air.
Of Judah's sons a countless concourse nigh;
Beneath his feet the crowd their garments strow'd,
And wav'd the palm-tree boughs in ecstacy;
In every face the gleam of rapture glow'd,
From every tongue was rais'd the joyous cry:
“Hosanna! Blest be royal David's heir!
Hosanna! Blest the King, Jehovah's care!”
And still, as on he went, Hosanna fill'd the air.
The scene is chang'd. No shout of triumph now
Sounds from the rocky pass of Olivet:
For garments strow'd, and waving palm-tree bough,
Are clubs and swords, and lamps and torches, met:
And lo, descending from the mountain's brow,
For their meek prey the hunters spread the net;
Where in the bosom of that fruitful hill,
Near the dark glen of Kedron's snow-fed rill,
Gethsemane, thy name the spot discovers still.
Sounds from the rocky pass of Olivet:
For garments strow'd, and waving palm-tree bough,
Are clubs and swords, and lamps and torches, met:
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For their meek prey the hunters spread the net;
Where in the bosom of that fruitful hill,
Near the dark glen of Kedron's snow-fed rill,
Gethsemane, thy name the spot discovers still.
The net is cast: the appointed sign is given;
The traitor's kiss, which marks him for their own.
Lo, where your victim stands, as if of heaven
Forsaken, unbefriended, and alone!
Why then before him, as a vine branch riven
By the keen lightning, fall ye overthrown?
Say, is the strength of that departing sun
So fierce, through clouded ev'ning's shadows dun,
That ye your eyes must hide his piercing rays to shun?
The traitor's kiss, which marks him for their own.
Lo, where your victim stands, as if of heaven
Forsaken, unbefriended, and alone!
Why then before him, as a vine branch riven
By the keen lightning, fall ye overthrown?
Say, is the strength of that departing sun
So fierce, through clouded ev'ning's shadows dun,
That ye your eyes must hide his piercing rays to shun?
What if, full blazing from his noonday height,
He shot the brightness of his shafts abroad?
What if he call'd his ministers of fight,
Full twelve bright legions of the sons of God?
What if, exulting in paternal might,
Himself the winepress of his fury trod;
Your blood beneath his trampling footsteps shed,
His raiment sprinkled, and his vesture red,
As with the purple grapes they who the winefat tread?
He shot the brightness of his shafts abroad?
What if he call'd his ministers of fight,
Full twelve bright legions of the sons of God?
What if, exulting in paternal might,
Himself the winepress of his fury trod;
Your blood beneath his trampling footsteps shed,
His raiment sprinkled, and his vesture red,
As with the purple grapes they who the winefat tread?
As yet it may not be! His heart's blood first,
(Seam'd with its drops ev'n now behold he stands!)
From that well-head of holiness must burst.
First of himself the word of truth demands
To bear the accursed tree, the parching thirst,
The open'd side, pierc'd feet, and bleeding hands.
Suffice it now, your sinking hearts have felt,
What pow'r essential in his person dwelt,
And at the captive's feet the captors low have knelt.
(Seam'd with its drops ev'n now behold he stands!)
From that well-head of holiness must burst.
First of himself the word of truth demands
To bear the accursed tree, the parching thirst,
The open'd side, pierc'd feet, and bleeding hands.
Suffice it now, your sinking hearts have felt,
What pow'r essential in his person dwelt,
And at the captive's feet the captors low have knelt.
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But tho' awhile that pow'r essential slept,
In meek forbearance of his murderous foes,
Of self unmindful; still his eye hath kept
Unsleeping watch the sufferer's wounds to close;
Meet task for him, who tears of pity wept
In prospect of devoted Salem's woes;
What time from yonder height he cast his eyes
O'er her rich dome, her stones of giant size;
And mourn'd her harden'd heart, her last sad destinies.
In meek forbearance of his murderous foes,
Of self unmindful; still his eye hath kept
Unsleeping watch the sufferer's wounds to close;
Meet task for him, who tears of pity wept
In prospect of devoted Salem's woes;
What time from yonder height he cast his eyes
O'er her rich dome, her stones of giant size;
And mourn'd her harden'd heart, her last sad destinies.
Said I, alone, without a friend, he stood?
No, not alone: his favour'd three were near,
Astounded all! But he, of warmest mood,
When he beheld his Lord and Master dear
Betray'd, deliver'd to the deed of blood;
Affection struggling with his native fear,
Forth from the sheath his ready sword he drew,
With outstretch'd arm quick to the rescue flew,
And one the foremost smote of that malignant crew.
No, not alone: his favour'd three were near,
Astounded all! But he, of warmest mood,
When he beheld his Lord and Master dear
Betray'd, deliver'd to the deed of blood;
Affection struggling with his native fear,
Forth from the sheath his ready sword he drew,
With outstretch'd arm quick to the rescue flew,
And one the foremost smote of that malignant crew.
But he for whom the blow was dealt, with joy
Mark'd he the passage of the keen-edg'd steel?
Ah, no! with warning voice and heart's annoy
He chid the fierceness of his champion's zeal.
The pow'r, he would not brandish to destroy,
More quick than thought, he summons forth to heal,
Not now allow'd in still repose to dwell;
And his touch follows, where the weapon fell.
No more: that touch is health, the maimed man is well.
Mark'd he the passage of the keen-edg'd steel?
Ah, no! with warning voice and heart's annoy
He chid the fierceness of his champion's zeal.
The pow'r, he would not brandish to destroy,
More quick than thought, he summons forth to heal,
Not now allow'd in still repose to dwell;
And his touch follows, where the weapon fell.
No more: that touch is health, the maimed man is well.
O ye, impatient of the Saviour's eye,
Struck to the ground with retrogressive pace,
There from his beams of clouded majesty
Fain in the dust to hide your dazzled face;
Who thence arose that marvel to descry,
That deed miraculous of pow'r and grace:
O, can ye still with reckless malice dare
For one so kind to spread the ruthless snare,
And to the death of shame that lamb-like victim bear?
Struck to the ground with retrogressive pace,
There from his beams of clouded majesty
Fain in the dust to hide your dazzled face;
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That deed miraculous of pow'r and grace:
O, can ye still with reckless malice dare
For one so kind to spread the ruthless snare,
And to the death of shame that lamb-like victim bear?
Ah! spare the deed! the guilty thought suppress!
Ye note his pitying soul! And will not He,
Who 'mid the whirl and tumult of distress,
Unheedful of his own deep agony,
Extends the hand of healing to redress
The wound inflicted on his enemy;
Say, will not He to you compassion bring,
And, if his grace ye seek, about you fling,
Ev'n as about her brood the hen, the gathering wing?
Ye note his pitying soul! And will not He,
Who 'mid the whirl and tumult of distress,
Unheedful of his own deep agony,
Extends the hand of healing to redress
The wound inflicted on his enemy;
Say, will not He to you compassion bring,
And, if his grace ye seek, about you fling,
Ev'n as about her brood the hen, the gathering wing?
Alas, that pow'r and goodness still should fail,
The smile attractive, the repulsive frown;
Nor o'er deaf ears, and self-clos'd eyes prevail!
Drawn by his cords of love, or smitten down
To the earth with shame, what now in Kedron's vale
Ye feel, ye erst have felt on Sion's crown.
But ye, who choose behind your back to throw
His signs and wonders, and refuse to know
The time of proffer'd weal, must meet the time of woe.
The smile attractive, the repulsive frown;
Nor o'er deaf ears, and self-clos'd eyes prevail!
Drawn by his cords of love, or smitten down
To the earth with shame, what now in Kedron's vale
Ye feel, ye erst have felt on Sion's crown.
But ye, who choose behind your back to throw
His signs and wonders, and refuse to know
The time of proffer'd weal, must meet the time of woe.
And deep the woe, when he shall give the word
To cause his ensign in mid heav'n be shown!
Behold, he comes! About his chariot pour'd
Streams of careering fire; the clouds his throne;
His breath the sharpness of a two-edg'd sword;
His voice, the deep-mouth'd thunder's awful tone.
Like flame, his eyes; his hair, as snow-flakes white;
His form, of amber; and his crown, of light;
His aspect like the sun, which shineth in his might.
To cause his ensign in mid heav'n be shown!
Behold, he comes! About his chariot pour'd
Streams of careering fire; the clouds his throne;
His breath the sharpness of a two-edg'd sword;
His voice, the deep-mouth'd thunder's awful tone.
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His form, of amber; and his crown, of light;
His aspect like the sun, which shineth in his might.
Behold, he comes! “Tis he,” ye cry, “'tis he,
Whose love we slighted, and whose pow'r defied!
'Tis he: the prophet meek from Galilee,
Whose works we slander'd, and his truth denied;
Crown'd him with thorns, and nail'd him to a tree,
The mock'd, the scorn'd, the scourg'd, the crucified!
He comes! The eternal God's eternal Word:
By angels worshipp'd, and by saints ador'd,
By trembling fiends confest, the universal Lord!”
Whose love we slighted, and whose pow'r defied!
'Tis he: the prophet meek from Galilee,
Whose works we slander'd, and his truth denied;
Crown'd him with thorns, and nail'd him to a tree,
The mock'd, the scorn'd, the scourg'd, the crucified!
He comes! The eternal God's eternal Word:
By angels worshipp'd, and by saints ador'd,
By trembling fiends confest, the universal Lord!”
Then to the rocks and mountains shall ye fly:
He spares you now; but in that fearful hour
Nor sin shall scape the lightning of his eye,
Nor mercy mitigate the stroke of pow'r.
Then ye, who pierc'd him, to the rocks shall cry,
“Fall on us, shield us, hide us from the show'r
Of the Lamb's wrath! his vengeance is abroad,
The day of battle of Almighty God;
And who his rage shall stay? And who abide his rod?”
He spares you now; but in that fearful hour
Nor sin shall scape the lightning of his eye,
Nor mercy mitigate the stroke of pow'r.
Then ye, who pierc'd him, to the rocks shall cry,
“Fall on us, shield us, hide us from the show'r
Of the Lamb's wrath! his vengeance is abroad,
The day of battle of Almighty God;
And who his rage shall stay? And who abide his rod?”
Then other sounds from faithful hearts shall rise:
The fierceness of his wrath is past away,
And mercy beams effulgent from his eyes.
There those who serv'd him on their earthly way
He bids approach his mansions in the skies,
His Father's realm of everlasting day.
Then joy shall be in heav'n; and sounds of mirth
From heav'n's bright sons mixt with the sons of earth;
And stars of morn shall sing creation's second birth.
The fierceness of his wrath is past away,
And mercy beams effulgent from his eyes.
There those who serv'd him on their earthly way
He bids approach his mansions in the skies,
His Father's realm of everlasting day.
Then joy shall be in heav'n; and sounds of mirth
From heav'n's bright sons mixt with the sons of earth;
And stars of morn shall sing creation's second birth.
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Lo, where he sits majestically calm!
Ten thousand thousand angels round him wait:
And white-rob'd saints, that hold the branching palm,
Souls of just men made perfect, grace his state:
And many a “hymn devout and holy psalm”
Is heard the living God to gratulate:
Praise to the Lamb! Joint praise to him they sing,
Who sitteth on the throne; the unseen King!
And with hosannas loud the heavenly regions ring.
Ten thousand thousand angels round him wait:
And white-rob'd saints, that hold the branching palm,
Souls of just men made perfect, grace his state:
And many a “hymn devout and holy psalm”
Is heard the living God to gratulate:
Praise to the Lamb! Joint praise to him they sing,
Who sitteth on the throne; the unseen King!
And with hosannas loud the heavenly regions ring.
“Praise to the Lamb, in sad Gethsemane
Who the rich first-fruits of his offering shed!
Praise to the Lamb, on darken'd Calvary
Who once for sin, a sinless victim, bled!
Praise to the Lamb, who high o'er Bethany
Far o'er all height on wings of cherubs fled!
O Holy, Holy, Holy! Worthy He
Of praise, whose breath commanded man to be!
And worthy He who died from death mankind to free!”
Who the rich first-fruits of his offering shed!
Praise to the Lamb, on darken'd Calvary
Who once for sin, a sinless victim, bled!
Praise to the Lamb, who high o'er Bethany
Far o'er all height on wings of cherubs fled!
O Holy, Holy, Holy! Worthy He
Of praise, whose breath commanded man to be!
And worthy He who died from death mankind to free!”
Enough! Return we now to things below,
The passing trials of this world of sense;
And drink our portion of the cup of woe,
Once drain'd by that embodied excellence.
Yet boots it oft from worldly cares to go
In thought to that dread tragedy; and thence
Ascend in vision to the final scene,
By faith unfolded, where the Nazarene,
“The man of sorrows,” sits in sov'reignty serene.
The passing trials of this world of sense;
And drink our portion of the cup of woe,
Once drain'd by that embodied excellence.
Yet boots it oft from worldly cares to go
In thought to that dread tragedy; and thence
Ascend in vision to the final scene,
By faith unfolded, where the Nazarene,
“The man of sorrows,” sits in sov'reignty serene.
For who that garden's lonely path can pace,
Or soar in thought to God's celestial mount;
And muse on Him, their faith's unmoving base,
Their hope's sole anchor, their salvation's fount;
And what his depth of self-abasement trace,
And what his height of dignity recount:
And not with steadier aim, and livelier speed,
And firmer patience, run the race decreed,
And share the Saviour's cross, and hope to share his meed?
Or soar in thought to God's celestial mount;
And muse on Him, their faith's unmoving base,
Their hope's sole anchor, their salvation's fount;
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And what his height of dignity recount:
And not with steadier aim, and livelier speed,
And firmer patience, run the race decreed,
And share the Saviour's cross, and hope to share his meed?
For me who wander thro' this leafless wood,
Sooth'd by the sighing of the waving trees,
And thus indulge my meditative mood
With thoughts that seek to profit and to please;
Be such my spirit's daily, nightly food:
Till my spent frame the sleep of winter seize,
Again to wake, again its strength renew,
My Saviour's voice to hear, his presence view,
When sight shall faith confirm, and prove her vision true!
Sooth'd by the sighing of the waving trees,
And thus indulge my meditative mood
With thoughts that seek to profit and to please;
Be such my spirit's daily, nightly food:
Till my spent frame the sleep of winter seize,
Again to wake, again its strength renew,
My Saviour's voice to hear, his presence view,
When sight shall faith confirm, and prove her vision true!
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