Chapter 12

Jesus, do I love Thee? Thou art far above me, Seated out of sight Hid in Heavenly Light Of most highest height. Martyred hosts implore Thee, Seraphs fall before Thee, Angels and Archangels, Cherub throngs adore Thee; Blessed She that bore Thee! 10 All the Saints approve Thee, All the Virgins love Thee. I show as a blot Blood hath cleansed not, As a barren spot In Thy fruitful lot. I, fig-tree fruit-unbearing; Thou, righteous Judge unsparing: What canst Thou do more to me That shall not more undo me? 20 Thy Justice hath a sound-- Why cumbereth it the ground? Thy Love with stirrings stronger Pleads--Give it one year longer. Thou giv'st me time: but who Save Thou shall give me dew; Shall feed my root with Blood, And stir my sap for good? Oh, by Thy Gifts that shame me, Give more lest they condemn me: 30 Good Lord, I ask much of Thee, But most I ask to love Thee; Kind Lord, be mindful of me, Love me, and make me love Thee.

I KNOW YOU NOT

(_Lyra Messianica_, 1864.)

O Christ, the Vine with living Fruit, The twelvefold-fruited Tree of Life, The Balm in Gilead after strife, The valley Lily and the Rose; Stronger than Lebanon, Thou Root; Sweeter than clustered grapes, Thou Vine; O Best, Thou Vineyard of red wine, Keeping thy best wine till the close.

Pearl of great price Thyself alone, And ruddier than the ruby Thou; 10 Most precious lightning Jasper stone, Head of the corner spurned before: Fair Gate of pearl, Thyself the Door; Clear golden Street, Thyself the Way; By Thee we journey toward Thee now, Through Thee shall enter Heaven one day.

I thirst for Thee, full fount and flood; My heart calls Thine, as deep to deep: Dost Thou forget Thy sweat and pain, They provocation on the Cross? 20 Heart-pierced for me, vouchsafe to keep The purchase of Thy lavished Blood: The gain is Thine, Lord, if I gain; Or if I lose, Thine own the loss.

At midnight (saith the Parable) A cry was made, the Bridegroom came; Those who were ready entered in: The rest, shut out in death and shame, Strove all too late that Feast to win, Their die was cast, and fixed their lot; 30 A gulf divided Heaven from Hell; The Bridegroom said--I know you not.

But Who is this that shuts the door, And saith--I know you not--to them? I see the wounded hands and side, The brow thorn-tortured long ago: Yea; This Who grieved and bled and died, This same is He Who must condemn; He called, but they refused to know; So now He hears their cry no more. 40

'BEFORE THE PALING OF THE STARS'

(_Lyra Messianica_, 1864.)

Before the paling of the stars, Before the winter morn, Before the earliest cockcrow Jesus Christ was born: Born in a stable, Cradled in a manger, In the world His hands had made Born a stranger.

Priest and king lay fast asleep In Jerusalem, 10 Young and old lay fast asleep In crowded Bethlehem: Saint and Angel, ox and ass, Kept a watch together, Before the Christmas daybreak In the winter weather.

Jesus on His Mother's breast In the stable cold, Spotless Lamb of God was He, Shepherd of the fold: 20 Let us kneel with Mary maid, With Joseph bent and hoary, With Saint and Angel, ox and ass, To hail the King of Glory.

EASTER EVEN

(_Lyra Messianica_, 1864.)

There is nothing more that they can do For all their rage and boast; Caiaphas with his blaspheming crew, Herod with his host,

Pontius Pilate in his Judgement-hall Judging their Judge and his, Or he who led them all and passed them all, Arch-Judas with his kiss.

The sepulchre made sure with ponderous Stone, Seal that same stone, O Priest; 10 It may be thou shalt block the holy One From rising in the east:

Set a watch about the sepulchre To watch on pain of death; They must hold fast the stone if One should stir And shake it from beneath.

God Almighty, He can break a seal And roll away a Stone, Can grind the proud in dust who would not kneel, And crush the mighty one. 20

* * * * * * *

There is nothing more that they can do For all their passionate care, Those who sit in dust, the blessed few, And weep and rend their hair:

Peter, Thomas, Mary Magdalene, The Virgin unreproved, Joseph, with Nicodemus, foremost men, And John the Well-beloved,

Bring your finest linen and your spice, Swathe the sacred Dead, 30 Bind with careful hands and piteous eyes The napkin round His head;

Lay Him in the garden-rock to rest; Rest you the Sabbath length: The Sun that went down crimson in the west Shall rise renewed in strength.

God Almighty shall give joy for pain, Shall comfort him who grieves: Lo! He with joy shall doubtless come again, And with Him bring His sheaves. 40

PARADISE: IN A DREAM

(_Lyra Messianica_, second edition, 1865.)

Once in a dream I saw the flowers That bud and bloom in Paradise; More fair they are than waking eyes Have seen in all this world of ours. And faint the perfume-bearing rose, And faint the lily on its stem, And faint the perfect violet Compared with them.

I heard the songs of Paradise: Each bird sat singing in his place; 10 A tender song so full of grace It soared like incense to the skies. Each bird sat singing to his mate Soft cooing notes among the trees: The nightingale herself were cold To such as these.

I saw the fourfold River flow, And deep it was, with golden sand; It flowed between a mossy land With murmured music grave and low. 20 It hath refreshment for all thirst, For fainting spirits strength and rest: Earth holds not such a draught as this From east to west.

The Tree of Life stood budding there, Abundant with its twelvefold fruits; Eternal sap sustains its roots, Its shadowing branches fill the air. Its leaves are healing for the world, Its fruit the hungry world can feed, 30 Sweeter than honey to the taste And balm indeed.

I saw the gate called Beautiful; And looked, but scarce could look, within; I saw the golden streets begin, And outskirts of the glassy pool. Oh harps, oh crowns of plenteous stars, Oh green palm-branches many-leaved-- Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard, Nor heart conceived. 40

I hope to see these things again, But not as once in dreams by night; To see them with my very sight, And touch, and handle, and attain: To have all Heaven beneath my feet For narrow way that once they trod; To have my part with all the saints, And with my God.

WITHIN THE VEIL

(_Lyra Eucharistica_, second edition, 1865.)

She holds a lily in her hand, Where long ranks of Angels stand, A silver lily for her wand.

All her hair falls sweeping down; Her hair that is a golden brown, A crown beneath her golden crown.

Blooms a rose-bush at her knee, Good to smell and good to see: It bears a rose for her, for me;

Her rose a blossom richly grown, 10 My rose a bud not fully blown, But sure one day to be mine own.

PARADISE: IN A SYMBOL

(_Lyra Eucharistica_, second edition, 1865.)

Golden-winged, silver-winged, Winged with flashing flame, Such a flight of birds I saw, Birds without a name: Singing songs in their own tongue (Song of songs) they came.

One to another calling, Each answering each, One to another calling In their proper speech: 10 High above my head they wheeled, Far out of reach.

On wings of flame they went and came With a cadenced clang, Their silver wings tinkled, Their golden wings rang, The wind it whistled through their wings Where in Heaven they sang.

They flashed and they darted Awhile before mine eyes, 20 Mounting, mounting, mounting still In haste to scale the skies-- Birds without a nest on earth, Birds of Paradise.

Where the moon riseth not, Nor sun seeks the west, There to sing their glory Which they sing at rest, There to sing their love-song When they sing their best: 30

Not in any garden That mortal foot hath trod, Not in any flowering tree That springs from earthly sod, But in the garden where they dwell, The Paradise of God.

AMOR MUNDI

(_The Shilling Magazine_, 1865.)

'Oh, where are you going with your love-locks flowing On the west wind blowing along this valley track?' 'The downhill path is easy, come with me an' it please ye, We shall escape the uphill by never turning back.'

So they two went together in glowing August weather, The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right; And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seemed to float on The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.

'Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven, Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?' 10 'Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,-- An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt.'

'Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly, Their scent comes rich and sickly?'--'A scaled and hooded worm.' 'Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?' 'Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits th' eternal term.'

'Turn again, O my sweetest,--turn again, false and fleetest: This way whereof thou weetest I fear is hell's own track.' 'Nay, too steep for hill-mounting,--nay, too late for cost-counting: This downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back.' 20

WHO SHALL DELIVER ME?

(_The Argosy_, Feb. 1866.)

God strengthen me to bear myself; That heaviest weight of all to bear, Inalienable weight of care.

All others are outside myself, I lock my door and bar them out The turmoil, tedium, gad-about.

I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?

If I could once lay down myself, 10 And start self-purged upon the race That all must run! Death runs apace.

If I could set aside myself, And start with lightened heart upon The road by all men overgone!

God harden me against myself, This coward with pathetic voice Who craves for ease, and rest, and joys:

Myself, arch-traitor to myself; My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe, 20 My clog whatever road I go.

Yet One there is can curb myself, Can roll the strangling load from me, Break off the yoke and set me free.

IF

(_The Argosy_, March 1866.)

If he would come to-day, to-day, to-day, O, what a day to-day would be! But now he's away, miles and miles away From me across the sea.

O little bird, flying, flying, flying To your nest in the warm west, Tell him as you pass that I am dying, As you pass home to your nest.

I have a sister, I have a brother, A faithful hound, a tame white dove; 10 But I had another, once I had another, And I miss him, my love, my love!

In this weary world it is so cold, so cold, While I sit here all alone; I would not like to wait and to grow old, But just to be dead and gone.

Make me fair when I lie dead on my bed, Fair where I am lying: Perhaps he may come and look upon me dead-- He for whom I am dying. 20

Dig my grave for two, with a stone to show it, And on the stone write my name; If he never comes, I shall never know it, But sleep on all the same.

TWILIGHT NIGHT

(_The Argosy_, March 1866.)

I

We met, hand to hand, We clasped hands close and fast, As close as oak and ivy stand; But it is past: Come day, come night, day comes at last.

We loosed hand from hand, We parted face from face; Each went his way to his own land. At his own pace, Each went to fill his separate place. 10

If we should meet one day, If both should not forget, We shall clasp hands the accustomed way, As when we met So long ago, as I remember yet.

II

Where my heart is (wherever that may be) Might I but follow! If you fly thither over heath and lea, O honey-seeking bee, O careless swallow, 20 Bid some for whom I watch keep watch for me.

Alas! that we must dwell, my heart and I, So far asunder. Hours wax to days, and days and days creep by; I watch with wistful eye, I wait and wonder: When will that day draw nigh--that hour draw nigh?

Not yesterday, and not, I think, to-day; Perhaps to-morrow. Day after day 'to-morrow' thus I say: 30 I watched so yesterday In hope and sorrow, Again to-day I watch the accustomed way.