 | Lazarus And other Poems |  |
Yet there came
A moment higher still. Upon our heads
Those feeble hands were laid, and through our frames,
With strange vibrations of a rushing flood
Of thoughts and powers fresh kindling into life,
The Spirit came upon us. From our lips
Burst the strange, mystic speech of other lands,
We, too, cried, “Abba! Lord of Sabaoth!”
We, too, could raise the Hallelujah chant,
And from our feeble tongues, in wondrous tones,
As of the voice of trumpet, loud and long,
The mighty “Maranatha” smote the air.
We knew not all we spake, but evermore
The clear, loud accents thrilled through all the soul;
We praised, adoring. Men might count our words
As wild and aimless, yet to us they brought
The joy ecstatic of the eternal choirs,
The hymns of angels at the throne of God.
And others, calmer in their strength of heart,
Received new power to read the thoughts that stirred
In each man's breast, to speak with words of fire,
Swift-darting as an arrow to their mark,
To say to this one, “Thou hast sinned, thy deed
Of secret shame is blazoned on thy brow;”
To that, “Fear not; thy hidden tears are known,
Thy yearning after peace; and God, who loves
The contrite heart, has pardoned all thy sins.”
A moment higher still. Upon our heads
Those feeble hands were laid, and through our frames,
With strange vibrations of a rushing flood
Of thoughts and powers fresh kindling into life,
The Spirit came upon us. From our lips
Burst the strange, mystic speech of other lands,
We, too, cried, “Abba! Lord of Sabaoth!”
We, too, could raise the Hallelujah chant,
And from our feeble tongues, in wondrous tones,
As of the voice of trumpet, loud and long,
The mighty “Maranatha” smote the air.
We knew not all we spake, but evermore
The clear, loud accents thrilled through all the soul;
We praised, adoring. Men might count our words
As wild and aimless, yet to us they brought
The joy ecstatic of the eternal choirs,
The hymns of angels at the throne of God.
And others, calmer in their strength of heart,
Received new power to read the thoughts that stirred
64
Swift-darting as an arrow to their mark,
To say to this one, “Thou hast sinned, thy deed
Of secret shame is blazoned on thy brow;”
To that, “Fear not; thy hidden tears are known,
Thy yearning after peace; and God, who loves
The contrite heart, has pardoned all thy sins.”
| Lazarus And other Poems | |