The Two Brothers, and other poems By Edward Henry Bickersteth |
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A NIGHT AT SANDGATE. |
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| II. |
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| IV. |
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| VII. |
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 | The Two Brothers, and other poems |  |
165
A NIGHT AT SANDGATE.
It was a strange and fearful night that same:
We had been talking of the troublous days
That seem'd to lie before us, and the clouds
Of gloom and tempest that were brooding round
The militant church of God: wherein we thought
Not one there gather'd would pass on unscathed.
And yet all hearts beat high, and glistening eyes
Burnt brightly as with coming triumph:—none
Hung back, none trembled, none were sore afraid.
He, whom unknown we knew, unseen we loved,
Was Pilot of our vessel, and He held
At beck the whirlwinds and the storms and clouds;
And He seem'd with us, saying;—“Fear ye not,
Lo! I am with you alway: in the world
Ye shall have tribulation; let your hearts
Be of good cheer, O ye of little faith,
For I, your Lord, have overcome the world.”
So into one another's eyes we look'd,
And found there—sorrow and dismay? nay, found
Such high enthusiast hopes as burn, like stars
'Mid drifting clouds, the brighter at near view
Of sufferings to be suffer'd and for Him,
Of high deeds to be ventured and for Him,
Of peril clasping our affection closer.
Amid that company were two who long
Had held bright standards in the warrior host
Of God—brave hearts—and as we heard them tell
Of conflicts deepening ever on the skirts
Of Christendom's blood-sprinkled battle-field,
The fire and light of love spontaneous rush'd
From heart to heart, and lit their altar-flame.
We had been talking of the troublous days
That seem'd to lie before us, and the clouds
Of gloom and tempest that were brooding round
The militant church of God: wherein we thought
Not one there gather'd would pass on unscathed.
And yet all hearts beat high, and glistening eyes
Burnt brightly as with coming triumph:—none
Hung back, none trembled, none were sore afraid.
He, whom unknown we knew, unseen we loved,
Was Pilot of our vessel, and He held
At beck the whirlwinds and the storms and clouds;
And He seem'd with us, saying;—“Fear ye not,
Lo! I am with you alway: in the world
Ye shall have tribulation; let your hearts
166
For I, your Lord, have overcome the world.”
So into one another's eyes we look'd,
And found there—sorrow and dismay? nay, found
Such high enthusiast hopes as burn, like stars
'Mid drifting clouds, the brighter at near view
Of sufferings to be suffer'd and for Him,
Of high deeds to be ventured and for Him,
Of peril clasping our affection closer.
Amid that company were two who long
Had held bright standards in the warrior host
Of God—brave hearts—and as we heard them tell
Of conflicts deepening ever on the skirts
Of Christendom's blood-sprinkled battle-field,
The fire and light of love spontaneous rush'd
From heart to heart, and lit their altar-flame.
The evening wore away: and one by one
At length we parted lingering and loth,
For golden are such hours and brief and few:
But drawn, as I divine, by kindred thoughts,
I and one other with me loiter'd yet
By a lone staircase window, that o'erlook'd
The deep blue billows of the midnight sea,
And the swift moonlight on those waters swift;
And overhead the everlasting stars.
But chief three planets look'd into our souls
With their large spirit-eyes. Long while we gazed
In silent rapture on that world of night,
And ponder'd silently, and to the winds
And roar of distant waters listen'd long.
It seem'd a picture of the dread ‘to be.’
There were the waters in their ceaseless changes
And wild eternal heavings, white with spray,
Wave chasing wave; but over them the moon
Rode in her silver sphere serene, and chid
Their wildness, and the glancing stars aloft
Fell on them with their sudden tears of light.
A strange and dream-like scene. Yes, soon we spake;
The same thought rush'd upon us—let the world
Change like those changing waters evermore,
And spend itself in moans or reckless smiles,—
Let us be cast upon its fretful waves;
Still stretches o'er us the blue sky, and thence
Lightens the piercing glory of the stars,
The silver beauty of true heart affection.
At length we parted lingering and loth,
For golden are such hours and brief and few:
But drawn, as I divine, by kindred thoughts,
I and one other with me loiter'd yet
167
The deep blue billows of the midnight sea,
And the swift moonlight on those waters swift;
And overhead the everlasting stars.
But chief three planets look'd into our souls
With their large spirit-eyes. Long while we gazed
In silent rapture on that world of night,
And ponder'd silently, and to the winds
And roar of distant waters listen'd long.
It seem'd a picture of the dread ‘to be.’
There were the waters in their ceaseless changes
And wild eternal heavings, white with spray,
Wave chasing wave; but over them the moon
Rode in her silver sphere serene, and chid
Their wildness, and the glancing stars aloft
Fell on them with their sudden tears of light.
A strange and dream-like scene. Yes, soon we spake;
The same thought rush'd upon us—let the world
Change like those changing waters evermore,
And spend itself in moans or reckless smiles,—
Let us be cast upon its fretful waves;
Still stretches o'er us the blue sky, and thence
168
The silver beauty of true heart affection.
And like clear village bells at eventide
Each young heart echo'd to the other back,
And ere we parted were there many thoughts
That only could find utterance in prayer.
Each young heart echo'd to the other back,
And ere we parted were there many thoughts
That only could find utterance in prayer.
1845.
| The Two Brothers, and other poems | |