The poetical works of James Montgomery collected by himself |
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| 5. | CANTO FIFTH. |
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 | The poetical works of James Montgomery |  |
CANTO FIFTH.
The Burying-place of the Patriarchs. The Sacrifice on the Anniversary of the Fall of Adam. Enoch's Prophecy.
“And here,” said Enoch, with dejected eye,
“Behold the grave, in which our Parents lie.”
They stopp'd, and o'er the turf-enclosure wept,
Where, side by side, the First-Created slept:
It seem'd as if a voice, with still small sound,
Heard in their bosoms, issued from that mound:
—“From earth we came, and we return'd to earth;
Descendants! spare the Dust that gave you birth;
Though Death, the pain for our transgression due,
By sad inheritance we left to you,
O let our Children bless us in our grave,
And man forgive the wrong that God forgave!”
“Behold the grave, in which our Parents lie.”
They stopp'd, and o'er the turf-enclosure wept,
Where, side by side, the First-Created slept:
It seem'd as if a voice, with still small sound,
Heard in their bosoms, issued from that mound:
—“From earth we came, and we return'd to earth;
Descendants! spare the Dust that gave you birth;
Though Death, the pain for our transgression due,
By sad inheritance we left to you,
O let our Children bless us in our grave,
And man forgive the wrong that God forgave!”
Thence to the altar Enoch turn'd his face;
But Javan linger'd in that burying-place,—
A scene sequester'd from the haunts of men,
The loveliest nook of all that lovely glen,
Where weary pilgrims found their last repose.
The little heaps were ranged in comely rows,
With walks between, by friends and kindred trod,
Who dress'd with duteous hands each hallow'd sod:
No sculptured monument was taught to breathe
His praises, whom the worm devour'd beneath;
The high, the low, the mighty, and the fair,
Equal in death, were undistinguish'd there.
Yet not a hillock moulder'd near that spot,
By one dishonour'd or by all forgot:
To some warm heart, the poorest dust was dear;
From some kind eye, the meanest claim'd a tear.
And oft the living, by affection led,
Were wont to walk in spirit with their dead,
Where no dark cypress cast a doleful gloom,
No blighting yew shed poison o'er the tomb,
But, white and red with intermingling flowers,
The graves look'd beautiful in sun and showers:
Green myrtles fenced it, and beyond their bound
Ran the clear rill with ever-murmuring sound.
'Twas not a scene for Grief to nourish care;
It breathed of Hope, and moved the heart to prayer.
But Javan linger'd in that burying-place,—
A scene sequester'd from the haunts of men,
The loveliest nook of all that lovely glen,
Where weary pilgrims found their last repose.
The little heaps were ranged in comely rows,
With walks between, by friends and kindred trod,
Who dress'd with duteous hands each hallow'd sod:
No sculptured monument was taught to breathe
His praises, whom the worm devour'd beneath;
The high, the low, the mighty, and the fair,
Equal in death, were undistinguish'd there.
Yet not a hillock moulder'd near that spot,
By one dishonour'd or by all forgot:
To some warm heart, the poorest dust was dear;
From some kind eye, the meanest claim'd a tear.
And oft the living, by affection led,
Were wont to walk in spirit with their dead,
Where no dark cypress cast a doleful gloom,
No blighting yew shed poison o'er the tomb,
But, white and red with intermingling flowers,
The graves look'd beautiful in sun and showers:
Green myrtles fenced it, and beyond their bound
Ran the clear rill with ever-murmuring sound.
'Twas not a scene for Grief to nourish care;
It breathed of Hope, and moved the heart to prayer.
Why linger'd Javan in that lone retreat?
The shrine of her that bare him drew his feet:
Trembling he sought it, fearing to behold
A bed of thistles, or unsightly mould;
But, lo! the turf, which his own hands had piled,
With choicest flowers and richest verdure smiled:
By all the glen, his mother's couch of rest,
In his default, was visited and blest.
He kneel'd, he kiss'd it, full of love and woe;
His heart was where his treasure lay, below;
And long he tarried, ere, with heav'nward eyes,
He rose, and hasten'd to the sacrifice.
The shrine of her that bare him drew his feet:
Trembling he sought it, fearing to behold
A bed of thistles, or unsightly mould;
But, lo! the turf, which his own hands had piled,
With choicest flowers and richest verdure smiled:
By all the glen, his mother's couch of rest,
In his default, was visited and blest.
He kneel'd, he kiss'd it, full of love and woe;
His heart was where his treasure lay, below;
And long he tarried, ere, with heav'nward eyes,
He rose, and hasten'd to the sacrifice.
Already, on a neighbouring mount that stood
Apart amidst the valley, girt with wood,
Whose open summit, rising o'er the trees,
Caught the cool fragrance of the evening breeze,
The Patriarchal Worshippers were met:
The Lamb was brought, the wood in order set
On Adam's rustic altar, moss-o'ergrown,
An unwrought mass of earth-embedded stone,
Long known and hallow'd, where, for man's offence,
The earth first drank the blood of innocence,
When God himself ordain'd the typic rite
To Eden's Exiles, resting on their flight.
Foremost amidst the group was Enoch seen,
Known by his humble port and heavenly mien:
On him the Priest's mysterious office lay,
For 'twas the eve of Man's transgression-day,
And him had Adam, with expiring breath,
Ordain'd to offer yearly, from his death,
A victim on that mountain whence the skies
Had first inhaled the fumes of sacrifice.
In Adam's coat of skins array'd he stands,
Spreading to heaven his supplicating hands,
Ere from his robe the deadly steel he drew
To smite the victim, sporting in his view.
Behind him Seth, in majesty confess'd,
The World's great Elder, tower'd above the rest.
Serenely shone his sweet and solemn eye,
Like the sun reigning in the western sky;
Though nine slow centuries by stealth had shed
Grey hairs, the crown of glory, on his head,
In hardy health he rear'd his front sublime:
Like the green aloe, in perennial prime,
When, full of years, it shoots forth all its bloom,
And glads the forest through the inmost gloom;
So, in the blossom of a good old age,
Flourish'd amidst his sons that peerless sage.
Apart amidst the valley, girt with wood,
Whose open summit, rising o'er the trees,
Caught the cool fragrance of the evening breeze,
The Patriarchal Worshippers were met:
The Lamb was brought, the wood in order set
49
An unwrought mass of earth-embedded stone,
Long known and hallow'd, where, for man's offence,
The earth first drank the blood of innocence,
When God himself ordain'd the typic rite
To Eden's Exiles, resting on their flight.
Foremost amidst the group was Enoch seen,
Known by his humble port and heavenly mien:
On him the Priest's mysterious office lay,
For 'twas the eve of Man's transgression-day,
And him had Adam, with expiring breath,
Ordain'd to offer yearly, from his death,
A victim on that mountain whence the skies
Had first inhaled the fumes of sacrifice.
In Adam's coat of skins array'd he stands,
Spreading to heaven his supplicating hands,
Ere from his robe the deadly steel he drew
To smite the victim, sporting in his view.
Behind him Seth, in majesty confess'd,
The World's great Elder, tower'd above the rest.
Serenely shone his sweet and solemn eye,
Like the sun reigning in the western sky;
Though nine slow centuries by stealth had shed
Grey hairs, the crown of glory, on his head,
In hardy health he rear'd his front sublime:
Like the green aloe, in perennial prime,
When, full of years, it shoots forth all its bloom,
And glads the forest through the inmost gloom;
So, in the blossom of a good old age,
Flourish'd amidst his sons that peerless sage.
Around him, in august succession, stood
The fathers of the world before the Flood:
—Enos; who taught mankind, on solemn days,
In sacred groves to meet for prayer and praise,
And warn'd idolaters to lift their eye,
From sun and stars, to Him who made the sky:
—Canaan and Malahel; of whom alone
Their age, of all that once they were, is known:
—Jared; who, full of hope beyond the tomb,
Hallow'd his offspring from the Mother's womb,
And heaven received the Son that Parent gave,
He walk'd with God, and overstepp'd the grave:
—A mighty pilgrim in the vale of tears,
Born to the troubles of a thousand years,
Methuselah, whose feet unhalting ran
To the last circle of the life of man:
—Lamech; from infancy inured to toil,
To wring slow blessings from the accursed soil,
Ere yet, to dress his vineyards, reap his corn,
And comfort him in care, was Noah born,
Who, in a later age, by signal grace,
Survived to renovate the human race:
Both worlds, by sad reversion, were his due,—
The Orphan of the old, the Father of the new.
The fathers of the world before the Flood:
—Enos; who taught mankind, on solemn days,
In sacred groves to meet for prayer and praise,
And warn'd idolaters to lift their eye,
From sun and stars, to Him who made the sky:
—Canaan and Malahel; of whom alone
Their age, of all that once they were, is known:
—Jared; who, full of hope beyond the tomb,
Hallow'd his offspring from the Mother's womb,
And heaven received the Son that Parent gave,
He walk'd with God, and overstepp'd the grave:
—A mighty pilgrim in the vale of tears,
Born to the troubles of a thousand years,
Methuselah, whose feet unhalting ran
To the last circle of the life of man:
—Lamech; from infancy inured to toil,
To wring slow blessings from the accursed soil,
Ere yet, to dress his vineyards, reap his corn,
And comfort him in care, was Noah born,
Who, in a later age, by signal grace,
Survived to renovate the human race:
Both worlds, by sad reversion, were his due,—
The Orphan of the old, the Father of the new.
These, with their families on either hand,
Aliens and exiles in their native land,
The few who loved their Maker from their youth,
And worshipp'd God in spirit and in truth;
These stood with Enoch:—All had fix'd their eyes
On him, and on the Lamb of sacrifice,
For now with trembling hand he shed the blood,
And placed the slaughter'd victim on the wood;
Then kneeling, as the sun went down, he laid
His hand upon the hallow'd pyre, and pray'd:—
“Maker of heaven and earth! supreme o'er all
That live, and move, and breathe, on Thee we call:
Our father sinn'd and suffer'd;—we, who bear
Our father's image, his transgression share;
Humbled for his offences, and our own,
Thou, who art holy, wise, and just alone,
Accept, with free confession of our guilt,
This victim slain, this blood devoutly spilt,
While through the veil of sacrifice we see
Thy mercy smiling, and look up to Thee:
O grant forgiveness! power and grace are thine;
God of salvation! cause thy face to shine;
Hear us in heaven! fulfil our souls' desire,
God of our father! answer now with fire.”
Aliens and exiles in their native land,
The few who loved their Maker from their youth,
And worshipp'd God in spirit and in truth;
These stood with Enoch:—All had fix'd their eyes
On him, and on the Lamb of sacrifice,
For now with trembling hand he shed the blood,
And placed the slaughter'd victim on the wood;
Then kneeling, as the sun went down, he laid
His hand upon the hallow'd pyre, and pray'd:—
“Maker of heaven and earth! supreme o'er all
That live, and move, and breathe, on Thee we call:
Our father sinn'd and suffer'd;—we, who bear
Our father's image, his transgression share;
Humbled for his offences, and our own,
Thou, who art holy, wise, and just alone,
Accept, with free confession of our guilt,
This victim slain, this blood devoutly spilt,
While through the veil of sacrifice we see
Thy mercy smiling, and look up to Thee:
O grant forgiveness! power and grace are thine;
God of salvation! cause thy face to shine;
Hear us in heaven! fulfil our souls' desire,
God of our father! answer now with fire.”
He rose: no light from heaven around him shone,
No fire descended from the eternal throne:
Cold on the pile the offer'd victim lay,
Amidst the stillness of expiring day.
The eyes of all that watch'd in vain to view
The wonted sign distractedly withdrew;
Fear clipp'd their breath, their doubling pulses raised,
And each by stealth upon his neighbour gazed;
From heart to heart a strange contagion ran,
A shuddering instinct crowded man to man;
Even Seth with secret consternation shook,
And cast on Enoch an imploring look.
Enoch, in whose sublime, unearthly mien,
No change of hue, no cloud of care, was seen,
Full on the mute assembly turn'd his face,
Clear as the sun prepared to run his race:
He spoke; his words, with awful warning fraught,
Rallied and fix'd the scatter'd powers of thought.
No fire descended from the eternal throne:
Cold on the pile the offer'd victim lay,
Amidst the stillness of expiring day.
The eyes of all that watch'd in vain to view
The wonted sign distractedly withdrew;
Fear clipp'd their breath, their doubling pulses raised,
And each by stealth upon his neighbour gazed;
From heart to heart a strange contagion ran,
A shuddering instinct crowded man to man;
50
And cast on Enoch an imploring look.
Enoch, in whose sublime, unearthly mien,
No change of hue, no cloud of care, was seen,
Full on the mute assembly turn'd his face,
Clear as the sun prepared to run his race:
He spoke; his words, with awful warning fraught,
Rallied and fix'd the scatter'd powers of thought.
“Men, brethren, fathers! wherefore do ye fear?
Hath God departed from us?—God is here;
Present in every heart, with sovereign power
He tries, He proves, his people in this hour:
Naked as light to his all-searching eye,
The thoughts that wrong, the doubts that tempt Him lie;
Yet, slow to anger, merciful as just,
He knows our frame, remembers we are dust,
And spares our weakness:—In his truth believe,
Hope against hope, and ask till ye receive.
What though no flame on Adam's altar burn,
No signal of acceptance yet return,
God is not man, who to our father sware,
All times, in every place, to answer prayer:
He cannot change; though heaven and earth decay,
The word of God shall never pass away.
Hath God departed from us?—God is here;
Present in every heart, with sovereign power
He tries, He proves, his people in this hour:
Naked as light to his all-searching eye,
The thoughts that wrong, the doubts that tempt Him lie;
Yet, slow to anger, merciful as just,
He knows our frame, remembers we are dust,
And spares our weakness:—In his truth believe,
Hope against hope, and ask till ye receive.
What though no flame on Adam's altar burn,
No signal of acceptance yet return,
God is not man, who to our father sware,
All times, in every place, to answer prayer:
He cannot change; though heaven and earth decay,
The word of God shall never pass away.
“But mark the season:—from the rising sun,
Westward, the race of Cain the world o'er-run;
Their monarch, mightiest of the sons of men,
Hath sworn destruction to the Patriarchs' glen:
Hither he hastens; carnage strews his path:
—Who will await the giant in his wrath?
Or who will take the wings of silent night,
And seek deliverance from his sword by flight?
Thus saith the Lord:—Ye weak of faith and heart,
Who dare not trust the living God, depart!
The Angel of his presence leads your way,
Your lives are safe, and given you as a prey:
But ye, who, unappall'd at earthly harm,
Lean on the strength of his Almighty arm,
Prepared for life or death, with firm accord,
Stand still, and see the glory of the Lord.”
Westward, the race of Cain the world o'er-run;
Their monarch, mightiest of the sons of men,
Hath sworn destruction to the Patriarchs' glen:
Hither he hastens; carnage strews his path:
—Who will await the giant in his wrath?
Or who will take the wings of silent night,
And seek deliverance from his sword by flight?
Thus saith the Lord:—Ye weak of faith and heart,
Who dare not trust the living God, depart!
The Angel of his presence leads your way,
Your lives are safe, and given you as a prey:
But ye, who, unappall'd at earthly harm,
Lean on the strength of his Almighty arm,
Prepared for life or death, with firm accord,
Stand still, and see the glory of the Lord.”
A pause, a dreary pause, ensued:—then cried
The holy man,—“On either hand divide;
The feeble fly; with me the valiant stay:
Choose now your portion; whom will ye obey,—
God, or your fears? His counsel, or your own?”
—“The Lord; the Lord; for He is God alone!”
Exclaim'd at once, with consentaneous choice,
The whole assembly, heart, and soul, and voice.
Then light from heaven with sudden beauty came,
Pure on the altar blazed the unkindled flame,
And upwards to their glorious source return'd
The sacred fires in which the victim burn'd:
While through the evening gloom, to distant eyes,
Morn o'er the Patriarchs' mountains seem'd to rise.
The holy man,—“On either hand divide;
The feeble fly; with me the valiant stay:
Choose now your portion; whom will ye obey,—
God, or your fears? His counsel, or your own?”
—“The Lord; the Lord; for He is God alone!”
Exclaim'd at once, with consentaneous choice,
The whole assembly, heart, and soul, and voice.
Then light from heaven with sudden beauty came,
Pure on the altar blazed the unkindled flame,
And upwards to their glorious source return'd
The sacred fires in which the victim burn'd:
While through the evening gloom, to distant eyes,
Morn o'er the Patriarchs' mountains seem'd to rise.
Awe-struck, the congregation kneel'd around,
And worshipp'd with their faces to the ground;
The peace of God, beyond expression sweet,
Fill'd every spirit humbled at his feet,
And love, joy, wonder, deeply mingling there,
Drew from the heart unutterable prayer.
And worshipp'd with their faces to the ground;
The peace of God, beyond expression sweet,
Fill'd every spirit humbled at his feet,
And love, joy, wonder, deeply mingling there,
Drew from the heart unutterable prayer.
They rose. As if his soul had pass'd away,
Prostrate before the altar Enoch lay;
Entranced so deeply, all believed him dead:
At length he breathed, he moved, he raised his head;
To heaven in ecstasy he turn'd his eyes;
—With such a look the dead in Christ shall rise,
When the last trumpet calls them from the dust,
To join the resurrection of the just:—
Yea, and from earthly grossness so refined,
(As if the soul had left the flesh behind,
Yet wore a mortal semblance,) upright stood
The great Evangelist before the Flood;
On him the vision of the Almighty broke,
And future times were present while he spoke.
Prostrate before the altar Enoch lay;
Entranced so deeply, all believed him dead:
At length he breathed, he moved, he raised his head;
To heaven in ecstasy he turn'd his eyes;
—With such a look the dead in Christ shall rise,
When the last trumpet calls them from the dust,
To join the resurrection of the just:—
Yea, and from earthly grossness so refined,
(As if the soul had left the flesh behind,
Yet wore a mortal semblance,) upright stood
The great Evangelist before the Flood;
On him the vision of the Almighty broke,
And future times were present while he spoke.
“The Saints shall suffer; righteousness shall fail;
O'er all the world iniquity prevail;
Giants, in fierce contempt of man and God,
Shall rule the nations with an iron rod;
On every mountain idol groves shall rise,
And darken heaven with human sacrifice:
But God the Avenger comes,—a judgment-day,
A flood, shall sweep his enemies away.
How few, whose eyes shall then have seen the sun,
—One righteous family, and only one,—
Saved from that wreck of Nature, shall behold
The new Creation rising from the old!
O'er all the world iniquity prevail;
Giants, in fierce contempt of man and God,
Shall rule the nations with an iron rod;
On every mountain idol groves shall rise,
And darken heaven with human sacrifice:
But God the Avenger comes,—a judgment-day,
A flood, shall sweep his enemies away.
How few, whose eyes shall then have seen the sun,
—One righteous family, and only one,—
Saved from that wreck of Nature, shall behold
The new Creation rising from the old!
“O, that the world of wickedness, destroy'd,
Might lie for ever without form and void!
Or, that the earth, to innocence restored,
Might flourish as the garden of the Lord!
It will not be:—among the sons of men,
The Giant-Spirit shall go forth again,
From clime to clime shall kindle murderous rage,
And spread the plagues of sin from age to age;
Yet shall the God of mercy, from above,
Extend the golden sceptre of his love,
And win the rebels to his righteous sway,
Till every mouth confess, and heart obey.
Might lie for ever without form and void!
Or, that the earth, to innocence restored,
Might flourish as the garden of the Lord!
51
The Giant-Spirit shall go forth again,
From clime to clime shall kindle murderous rage,
And spread the plagues of sin from age to age;
Yet shall the God of mercy, from above,
Extend the golden sceptre of his love,
And win the rebels to his righteous sway,
Till every mouth confess, and heart obey.
“Amidst the visions of ascending years,
What mighty Chief, what Conqueror, appears;
His garments roll'd in blood, his eyes of flame,
And on his thigh the unutterable name?
—‘'Tis I that bring deliverance: strong to save,
I pluck'd the prey from death, and spoil'd the grave.’
—Wherefore, O Warrior! are thy garments red,
Like those whose feet amidst the vintage tread?
—‘I trod the wine-press of the field alone;
I look'd around for succour; there was none;
Therefore my wrath sustain'd me while I fought,
And mine own arm my Saints' salvation wrought.’
—Thus may thine arm for evermore prevail;
Thus may thy foes, O Lord! for ever fail;
Captive by thee captivity be led;
Seed of the woman! bruise the serpent's head;
Redeemer! promised since the world began,
Bow the high heavens, and condescend to man.
What mighty Chief, what Conqueror, appears;
His garments roll'd in blood, his eyes of flame,
And on his thigh the unutterable name?
—‘'Tis I that bring deliverance: strong to save,
I pluck'd the prey from death, and spoil'd the grave.’
—Wherefore, O Warrior! are thy garments red,
Like those whose feet amidst the vintage tread?
—‘I trod the wine-press of the field alone;
I look'd around for succour; there was none;
Therefore my wrath sustain'd me while I fought,
And mine own arm my Saints' salvation wrought.’
—Thus may thine arm for evermore prevail;
Thus may thy foes, O Lord! for ever fail;
Captive by thee captivity be led;
Seed of the woman! bruise the serpent's head;
Redeemer! promised since the world began,
Bow the high heavens, and condescend to man.
“Hail to the Day-spring! dawning from afar,
Bright in the east I see his natal star:
Prisoners of hope! lift up your joyful eyes;
Welcome the King of Glory from the skies:
Who is the King of Glory?—Mark his birth:
In deep humility he stoops to earth,
Assumes a Servant's form, a Pilgrim's lot,
Comes to his own, his own receive him not,
Though angel-choirs his peaceful advent greet,
And Gentile sages worship at his feet.
Bright in the east I see his natal star:
Prisoners of hope! lift up your joyful eyes;
Welcome the King of Glory from the skies:
Who is the King of Glory?—Mark his birth:
In deep humility he stoops to earth,
Assumes a Servant's form, a Pilgrim's lot,
Comes to his own, his own receive him not,
Though angel-choirs his peaceful advent greet,
And Gentile sages worship at his feet.
“Fair as that sovereign Plant, whose scions shoot
With healing verdure, and immortal fruit,
The Tree of Life, beside the stream that laves
The fields of Paradise with gladdening waves;
Behold him rise from infancy to youth,
The Father's image, full of grace and truth;
Tried, tempted, proved in secret, till the hour
When, girt with meekness, but array'd with power,
Forth in the spirit of the Lord, at length,
Like the sun shining in meridian strength,
He goes:—to preach good tidings to the poor;
To heal the wounds that nature cannot cure;
To bind the broken-hearted; to control
Disease and death; to raise the sinking soul;
Unbar the dungeon, set the captive free,
Proclaim the joyous year of liberty,
And, from the depth of undiscover'd night,
Bring life and immortality to light.
With healing verdure, and immortal fruit,
The Tree of Life, beside the stream that laves
The fields of Paradise with gladdening waves;
Behold him rise from infancy to youth,
The Father's image, full of grace and truth;
Tried, tempted, proved in secret, till the hour
When, girt with meekness, but array'd with power,
Forth in the spirit of the Lord, at length,
Like the sun shining in meridian strength,
He goes:—to preach good tidings to the poor;
To heal the wounds that nature cannot cure;
To bind the broken-hearted; to control
Disease and death; to raise the sinking soul;
Unbar the dungeon, set the captive free,
Proclaim the joyous year of liberty,
And, from the depth of undiscover'd night,
Bring life and immortality to light.
“How beauteous on the mountains are thy feet,
Thy form how comely, and thy voice how sweet,
Son of the Highest!—Who can tell thy fame?
The Deaf shall hear it, while the Dumb proclaim;
Now bid the Blind behold their Saviour's light,
The Lame go forth rejoicing in their might;
Cleanse with a touch yon kneeling Leper's skin;
Cheer this pale Penitent, forgive her sin;
O, for that Mother's faith, her Daughter spare;
Restore the Maniac to a Father's prayer;
Pity the tears those mournful Sisters shed,
And Be the Resurrection of the Dead!
Thy form how comely, and thy voice how sweet,
Son of the Highest!—Who can tell thy fame?
The Deaf shall hear it, while the Dumb proclaim;
Now bid the Blind behold their Saviour's light,
The Lame go forth rejoicing in their might;
Cleanse with a touch yon kneeling Leper's skin;
Cheer this pale Penitent, forgive her sin;
O, for that Mother's faith, her Daughter spare;
Restore the Maniac to a Father's prayer;
Pity the tears those mournful Sisters shed,
And Be the Resurrection of the Dead!
“What scene is this?—Amidst involving gloom
The moonlight lingers on a lonely tomb;
No noise disturbs the garden's hallow'd bound,
But the watch walking on their midnight round:
Ah! who lies here, with marr'd and bloodless mien,
In whom no form or comeliness is seen;
His livid limbs with nails and scourges torn,
His side transpierced, his temples wreathed with thorn?
'Tis He, the Man of Sorrows! He who bore
Our sins and chastisement:—His toils are o'er:
On earth erewhile a suffering life he led;
Here hath he found a place to lay his head:
Rank'd with transgressors he resign'd his breath,
But with the rich he made his bed in death.
Sweet is the grave, where Angels watch and weep;
Sweet is the grave, and sanctified his sleep;
Rest, O my spirit! by this martyr'd form,
This wreck, that sunk beneath the Almighty storm,
When floods of wrath that weigh'd the world to hell,
On Him alone in righteous vengeance fell;
While men derided, demons urged, his woes,
And God forsook him,—till the awful close;
Then, in triumphant agony, He cried,
‘'Tis finish'd!’—bow'd his sacred head, and died.
Death, as he struck that noblest victim, found
His sting was lost for ever in the wound;
The Grave, that holds his corse, her richest prize,
Shall yield him back, victorious, to the skies.
He lives: ye bars of steel! ye gates of brass!
Give way and let the King of Glory pass:—
He lives: ye golden portals of the spheres!
Open! the Sun of Righteousness appears.
But, ah! my spirit faints beneath the blaze
That breaks and brightens o'er the latter days,
When every tongue his trophies shall proclaim,
And every knee shall worship at his name;
For He shall reign with undivided power,
To Earth's last bounds, to Nature's final hour.
The moonlight lingers on a lonely tomb;
No noise disturbs the garden's hallow'd bound,
But the watch walking on their midnight round:
Ah! who lies here, with marr'd and bloodless mien,
In whom no form or comeliness is seen;
His livid limbs with nails and scourges torn,
His side transpierced, his temples wreathed with thorn?
'Tis He, the Man of Sorrows! He who bore
Our sins and chastisement:—His toils are o'er:
On earth erewhile a suffering life he led;
Here hath he found a place to lay his head:
Rank'd with transgressors he resign'd his breath,
But with the rich he made his bed in death.
Sweet is the grave, where Angels watch and weep;
Sweet is the grave, and sanctified his sleep;
Rest, O my spirit! by this martyr'd form,
This wreck, that sunk beneath the Almighty storm,
When floods of wrath that weigh'd the world to hell,
On Him alone in righteous vengeance fell;
While men derided, demons urged, his woes,
And God forsook him,—till the awful close;
52
‘'Tis finish'd!’—bow'd his sacred head, and died.
Death, as he struck that noblest victim, found
His sting was lost for ever in the wound;
The Grave, that holds his corse, her richest prize,
Shall yield him back, victorious, to the skies.
He lives: ye bars of steel! ye gates of brass!
Give way and let the King of Glory pass:—
He lives: ye golden portals of the spheres!
Open! the Sun of Righteousness appears.
But, ah! my spirit faints beneath the blaze
That breaks and brightens o'er the latter days,
When every tongue his trophies shall proclaim,
And every knee shall worship at his name;
For He shall reign with undivided power,
To Earth's last bounds, to Nature's final hour.
“'Tis done:—again the conquering Chief appears
In the dread vision of dissolving years;
His vesture dipp'd in blood, his eyes of flame,
The Word of God his everlasting name;
Throned in mid-heaven, with clouds of glory spread,
He sits in judgment on the quick and dead;
Strong to deliver: Saints! your songs prepare;
Rush from your tombs to meet him in the air:
But terrible in vengeance; Sinners! bow
Your haughty heads, the grave protects not now:
He who alone in mortal conflict trod
The mighty wine-press of the wrath of God,
Shall fill the cup of trembling to his foes,
The unmingled cup of inexhausted woes;
The proud shall drink it in that dreadful day,
While Earth dissolves, and Heaven is roll'd away.”
In the dread vision of dissolving years;
His vesture dipp'd in blood, his eyes of flame,
The Word of God his everlasting name;
Throned in mid-heaven, with clouds of glory spread,
He sits in judgment on the quick and dead;
Strong to deliver: Saints! your songs prepare;
Rush from your tombs to meet him in the air:
But terrible in vengeance; Sinners! bow
Your haughty heads, the grave protects not now:
He who alone in mortal conflict trod
The mighty wine-press of the wrath of God,
Shall fill the cup of trembling to his foes,
The unmingled cup of inexhausted woes;
The proud shall drink it in that dreadful day,
While Earth dissolves, and Heaven is roll'd away.”
Here ceased the Prophet:—from the altar broke
The last dim wreaths of fire-illumined smoke;
Darkness had fall'n around; but o'er the streams
The Moon, new-ris'n, diffused her brightening beams:
Homeward, with tears, the worshippers return'd,
Yet, while they wept, their hearts within them burn'd.
The last dim wreaths of fire-illumined smoke;
Darkness had fall'n around; but o'er the streams
The Moon, new-ris'n, diffused her brightening beams:
Homeward, with tears, the worshippers return'd,
Yet, while they wept, their hearts within them burn'd.
| The poetical works of James Montgomery | |