Chapter 4

Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy name Did thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes: I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame; I, God, Priest, Sacrifice. 20

A thief upon My right hand and My left; Six hours alone, athirst, in misery: At length in death one smote My heart and cleft A hiding-place for thee.

Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of down More dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep: So did I win a kingdom,--share my crown; A harvest,--come and reap.

'A BRUISED REED SHALL HE NOT BREAK'

I will accept thy will to do and be, Thy hatred and intolerance of sin, Thy will at least to love, that burns within And thirsteth after Me: So will I render fruitful, blessing still, The germs and small beginnings in thy heart, Because thy will cleaves to the better part.-- Alas, I cannot will.

Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receive The inner unseen longings of the soul, 10 I guide them turning towards Me; I control And charm hearts till they grieve: If thou desire, it yet shall come to pass, Though thou but wish indeed to choose My love; For I have power in earth and heaven above.-- I cannot wish, alas!

What, neither choose nor wish to choose? and yet I still must strive to win thee and constrain: For thee I hung upon the cross in pain, How then can I forget? 20 If thou as yet dost neither love, nor hate, Nor choose, nor wish,--resign thyself, be still Till I infuse love, hatred, longing, will.-- I do not deprecate.

A BETTER RESURRECTION

I have no wit, no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone Is numbed too much for hopes or fears. Look right, look left, I dwell alone; I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief No everlasting hills I see; My life is in the falling leaf: O Jesus, quicken me.

My life is like a faded leaf, My harvest dwindled to a husk; 10 Truly my life is void and brief And tedious in the barren dusk; My life is like a frozen thing, No bud nor greenness can I see: Yet rise it shall--the sap of Spring; O Jesus, rise in me.

My life is like a broken bowl, A broken bowl that cannot hold One drop of water for my soul Or cordial in the searching cold 20 Cast in the fire the perished thing, Melt and remould it, till it be A royal cup for Him my King: O Jesus, drink of me.

ADVENT

This Advent moon shines cold and clear, These Advent nights are long; Our lamps have burned year after year And still their flame is strong. 'Watchman, what of the night?' we cry, Heart-sick with hope deferred: 'No speaking signs are in the sky,' Is still the watchman's word.

The Porter watches at the gate, The servants watch within; 10 The watch is long betimes and late, The prize is slow to win. 'Watchman, what of the night?' But still His answer sounds the same: 'No daybreak tops the utmost hill, Nor pale our lamps of flame.'

One to another hear them speak The patient virgins wise: 'Surely He is not far to seek'-- 'All night we watch and rise.' 20 'The days are evil looking back, The coming days are dim; Yet count we not His promise slack, But watch and wait for Him.'

One with another, soul with soul, They kindle fire from fire: 'Friends watch us who have touched the goal.' 'They urge us, come up higher.' 'With them shall rest our waysore feet, With them is built our home, 30 With Christ.'--'They sweet, but He most sweet, Sweeter than honeycomb.'

There no more parting, no more pain, The distant ones brought near, The lost so long are found again, Long lost but longer dear: Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, Nor heart conceived that rest, With them our good things long deferred, With Jesus Christ our Best. 40

We weep because the night is long, We laugh for day shall rise, We sing a slow contented song And knock at Paradise. Weeping we hold Him fast, Who wept For us, we hold Him fast; And will not let Him go except He bless us first or last.

Weeping we hold Him fast to-night; We will not let Him go 50 Till daybreak smite our wearied sight And summer smite the snow: Then figs shall bud, and dove with dove Shall coo the livelong day; Then He shall say, 'Arise, My love, My fair one, come away.'

THE THREE ENEMIES

THE FLESH

'Sweet, thou art pale.' 'More pale to see, Christ hung upon the cruel tree And bore His Father's wrath for me.'

'Sweet, thou art sad.' 'Beneath a rod More heavy, Christ for my sake trod The winepress of the wrath of God.'

'Sweet, thou art weary.' 'Not so Christ: Whose mighty love of me sufficed For Strength, Salvation, Eucharist.'

'Sweet, thou art footsore.' 'If I bleed, 10 His feet have bled; yea in my need His Heart once bled for mine indeed.'

THE WORLD

'Sweet, thou art young.' 'So He was young Who for my sake in silence hung Upon the Cross with Passion wrung.'

'Look, thou art fair.' 'He was more fair Than men, Who deigned for me to wear A visage marred beyond compare.'

'And thou hast riches.' 'Daily bread: All else is His: Who, living, dead, 20 For me lacked where to lay His Head.'

'And life is sweet.' 'It was not so To Him, Whose Cup did overflow With mine unutterable woe.'

THE DEVIL

'Thou drinkest deep.' 'When Christ would sup He drained the dregs from out my cup: So how should I be lifted up?'

'Thou shalt win Glory.' 'In the skies, Lord Jesus, cover up mine eyes Lest they should look on vanities.' 30

'Thou shalt have Knowledge.' 'Helpless dust! In Thee, O Lord, I put my trust: Answer Thou for me, Wise and Just.'

'And Might.'-- 'Get thee behind me. Lord, Who hast redeemed and not abhorred My soul, oh keep it by Thy Word.'

THE ONE CERTAINTY

Sonnet

Vanity of vanities, the Preacher saith, All things are vanity. The eye and ear Cannot be filled with what they see and hear. Like early dew, or like the sudden breath Of wind, or like the grass that withereth, Is man, tossed to and fro by hope and fear: So little joy hath he, so little cheer, Till all things end in the long dust of death. To-day is still the same as yesterday, To-morrow also even as one of them; And there is nothing new under the sun: Until the ancient race of Time be run, The old thorns shall grow out of the old stem, And morning shall be cold and twilight grey.

CHRISTIAN AND JEW

A DIALOGUE

'Oh happy happy land! Angels like rushes stand About the wells of light.'-- 'Alas, I have not eyes for this fair sight: Hold fast my hand.'--

'As in a soft wind, they Bend all one blessed way, Each bowed in his own glory, star with star.'-- 'I cannot see so far, Here shadows are.'-- 10

'White-winged the cherubim, Yet whiter seraphim, Glow white with intense fire of love.'-- 'Mine eyes are dim: I look in vain above, And miss their hymn.'--

'Angels, Archangels cry One to other ceaselessly (I hear them sing) One "Holy, Holy, Holy" to their King.'-- 20 'I do not hear them, I.'--

'At one side Paradise Is curtained from the rest, Made green for wearied eyes; Much softer than the breast Of mother-dove clad in a rainbow's dyes.

'All precious souls are there Most safe, elect by grace, All tears are wiped for ever from their face: Untired in prayer 30 They wait and praise Hidden for a little space.

'Boughs of the Living Vine They spread in summer shine Green leaf with leaf: Sap of the Royal Vine it stirs like wine In all both less and chief.

'Sing to the Lord, All spirits of all flesh, sing; For He hath not abhorred 40 Our low estate nor scorn'd our offering: Shout to our King.'--

'But Zion said: My Lord forgetteth me. Lo, she hath made her bed In dust; forsaken weepeth she Where alien rivers swell the sea.

'She laid her body as the ground, Her tender body as the ground to those Who passed; her harpstrings cannot sound 50 In a strange land; discrowned She sits, and drunk with woes.'--

'O drunken not with wine, Whose sins and sorrows have fulfilled the sum,-- Be not afraid, arise, be no more dumb; Arise, shine, For thy light is come.'--

'Can these bones live?'-- 'God knows: The prophet saw such clothed with flesh and skin; A wind blew on them and life entered in; 60 They shook and rose. Hasten the time, O Lord, blot out their sin, Let life begin.'

SWEET DEATH

The sweetest blossoms die. And so it was that, going day by day Unto the church to praise and pray, And crossing the green churchyard thoughtfully, I saw how on the graves the flowers Shed their fresh leaves in showers, And how their perfume rose up to the sky Before it passed away.

The youngest blossoms die. They die, and fall and nourish the rich earth 10 From which they lately had their birth; Sweet life, but sweeter death that passeth by And is as though it had not been:-- All colors turn to green: The bright hues vanish, and the odours fly, The grass hath lasting worth.

And youth and beauty die. So be it, O my God, Thou God of truth: Better than beauty and than youth Are Saints and Angels, a glad company; 20 And Thou, O lord, our Rest and Ease, Are better far than these. Why should we shrink from our full harvest? why Prefer to glean with Ruth?

SYMBOLS

I watched a rosebud very long Brought on by dew and sun and shower, Waiting to see the perfect flower: Then, when I thought it should be strong, It opened at the matin hour And fell at evensong.

I watched a nest from day to day, A green nest full of pleasant shade, Wherein three speckled eggs were laid: But when they should have hatched in May, 10 The two old birds had grown afraid Or tired, and flew away.

Then in my wrath I broke the bough That I had tended so with care, Hoping its scent should fill the air; I crushed the eggs, not heeding how Their ancient promise had been fair: I would have vengeance now.

But the dead branch spoke from the sod, And the eggs answered me again: 20 Because we failed dost thou complain? Is thy wrath just? And what if God, Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain, Should also take the rod?

'CONSIDER THE LILIES OF THE FIELD'

Flowers preach to us if we will hear:-- The rose saith in the dewy morn: I am most fair; Yet all my loveliness is born Upon a thorn. The poppy saith amid the corn: Let but my scarlet head appear And I am held in scorn; Yet juice of subtle virtue lies Within my cup of curious dyes. 10 The lilies say: Behold how we Preach without words of purity. The violets whisper from the shade Which their own leaves have made: Men scent our fragrance on the air, Yet take no heed Of humble lessons we would read. But not alone the fairest flowers: The merest grass Along the roadside where we pass, 20 Lichen and moss and sturdy weed, Tell of His love who sends the dew, The rain and sunshine too, To nourish one small seed.

THE WORLD

Sonnet

By day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair: But all night as the moon so changeth she; Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy And subtle serpents gliding in her hair. By day she woos me to the outer air, Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety: But through the night, a beast she grins at me, A very monster void of love and prayer. By day she stands a lie: by night she stands In all the naked horror of the truth With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands. Is this a friend indeed; that I should sell My soul to her, give her my life and youth, Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?

A TESTIMONY

I said of laughter: it is vain. Of mirth I said: what profits it? Therefore I found a book, and writ Therein how ease and also pain, How health and sickness, every one Is vanity beneath the sun.

Man walks in a vain shadow; he Disquieteth himself in vain. The things that were shall be again; The rivers do not fill the sea, 10 But turn back to their secret source; The winds too turn upon their course.

Our treasures moth and rust corrupt, Or thieves break through and steal, or they Make themselves wings and fly away. One man made merry as he supped, Nor guessed how when that night grew dim, His soul would be required of him.

We build our houses on the sand Comely withoutside and within; 20 But when the winds and rains begin To beat on them, they cannot stand; They perish, quickly overthrown, Loose from the very basement stone.

All things are vanity, I said: Yea vanity of vanities. The rich man dies; and the poor dies: The worm feeds sweetly on the dead. Whate'er thou lackest, keep this trust: All in the end shall have but dust. 30

The one inheritance, which best And worst alike shall find and share: The wicked cease from troubling there, And there the weary are at rest; There all the wisdom of the wise Is vanity of vanities.

Man flourishes as a green leaf, And as a leaf doth pass away; Or as a shade that cannot stay, And leaves no track, his course is brief: 40 Yet doth man hope and fear and plan Till he is dead:--oh foolish man!

Our eyes cannot be satisfied With seeing, nor our ears be filled With hearing: yet we plant and build And buy and make our borders wide; We gather wealth, we gather care, But know not who shall be our heir.

Why should we hasten to arise So early, and so late take rest? 50 Our labour is not good; our best Hopes fade; our heart is stayed on lies: Verily, we sow wind; and we Shall reap the whirlwind, verily.

He who hath little shall not lack; He who hath plenty shall decay: Our fathers went; we pass away; Our children follow on our track: So generations fail, and so They are renewed, and come and go. 60

The earth is fattened with our dead; She swallows more and doth not cease: Therefore her wine and oil increase And her sheaves are not numberèd; Therefore her plants are green, and all Her pleasant trees lusty and tall.

Therefore the maidens cease to sing, And the young men are very sad; Therefore the sowing is not glad, And mournful is the harvesting. 70 Of high and low, of great and small, Vanity is the lot of all.

A King dwelt in Jerusalem; He was the wisest man on earth; He had all riches from his birth, And pleasures till he tired of them; Then, having tested all things, he Witnessed that all are vanity.

SLEEP AT SEA

Sound the deep waters:-- Who shall sound that deep?-- Too short the plummet, And the watchmen sleep. Some dream of effort Up a toilsome steep; Some dream of pasture grounds For harmless sheep.

White shapes flit to and fro From mast to mast; 10 They feel the distant tempest That nears them fast: Great rocks are straight ahead, Great shoals not past; They shout to one another Upon the blast.

Oh, soft the streams drop music Between the hills, And musical the birds' nests Beside those rills: 20 The nests are types of home Love-hidden from ills, The nests are types of spirits Love-music fills.

So dream the sleepers, Each man in his place; The lightning shows the smile Upon each face: The ship is driving, driving, It drives apace: 30 And sleepers smile, and spirits Bewail their case.

The lightning glares and reddens Across the skies; It seems but sunset To those sleeping eyes. When did the sun go down On such a wise? From such a sunset When shall day arise? 40

'Wake,' call the spirits: But to heedless ears: They have forgotten sorrows And hopes and fears; They have forgotten perils And smiles and tears; Their dream has held them long, Long years and years.

'Wake,' call the spirits again: But it would take 50 A louder summons To bid them awake. Some dream of pleasure For another's sake; Some dream, forgetful Of a lifelong ache.

One by one slowly, Ah, how sad and slow! Wailing and praying The spirits rise and go: 60 Clear stainless spirits White as white as snow; Pale spirits, wailing For an overthrow.

One by one flitting, Like a mournful bird Whose song is tired at last For no mate is heard. The loving voice is silent, The useless word; 70 One by one flitting Sick with hope deferred.

Driving and driving, The ship drives amain: While swift from mast to mast Shapes flit again, Flit silent as the silence Where men lie slain; Their shadow cast upon the sails Is like a stain. 80

No voice to call the sleepers, No hand to raise: They sleep to death in dreaming, Of length of days. Vanity of vanities, The Preacher says: Vanity is the end Of all their ways.

FROM HOUSE TO HOME

The first was like a dream through summer heat, The second like a tedious numbing swoon, While the half-frozen pulses lagged to beat Beneath a winter moon.

'But,' says my friend, 'what was this thing and where?' It was a pleasure-place within my soul; An earthly paradise supremely fair That lured me from the goal.

The first part was a tissue of hugged lies; The second was its ruin fraught with pain: 10 Why raise the fair delusion to the skies But to be dashed again?

My castle stood of white transparent glass Glittering and frail with many a fretted spire, But when the summer sunset came to pass It kindled into fire.

My pleasaunce was an undulating green, Stately with trees whose shadows slept below, With glimpses of smooth garden-beds between Like flame or sky or snow. 20

Swift squirrels on the pastures took their ease, With leaping lambs safe from the unfeared knife; All singing-birds rejoicing in those trees Fulfilled their careless life.

Woodpigeons cooed there, stockdoves nestled there; My trees were full of songs and flowers and fruit, Their branches spread a city to the air And mice lodged in their root.

My heath lay farther off, where lizards lived In strange metallic mail, just spied and gone; 30 Like darted lightnings here and there perceived But nowhere dwelt upon.

Frogs and fat toads were there to hop or plod And propagate in peace, an uncouth crew, Where velvet-headed rushes rustling nod And spill the morning dew.

All caterpillars throve beneath my rule, With snails and slugs in corners out of sight; I never marred the curious sudden stool That perfects in a night. 40

Safe in his excavated gallery The burrowing mole groped on from year to year; No harmless hedgehog curled because of me His prickly back for fear.

Oft times one like an angel walked with me, With spirit-discerning eyes like flames of fire, But deep as the unfathomed endless sea, Fulfilling my desire:

And sometimes like a snowdrift he was fair, And sometimes like a sunset glorious red, 50 And sometimes he had wings to scale the air With aureole round his head.

We sang our songs together by the way, Calls and recalls and echoes of delight; So communed we together all the day, And so in dreams by night.

I have no words to tell what way we walked. What unforgotten path now closed and sealed; I have no words to tell all things we talked, All things that he revealed: 60

This only can I tell: that hour by hour I waxed more feastful, lifted up and glad; I felt no thorn-prick when I plucked a flower, Felt not my friend was sad.

'To-morrow,' once I said to him with smiles: 'To-night,' he answered gravely and was dumb, But pointed out the stones that numbered miles And miles to come.

'Not so,' I said: 'to-morrow shall be sweet; To-night is not so sweet as coming days.' 70 Then first I saw that he had turned his feet, Had turned from me his face:

Running and flying miles and miles he went, But once looked back to beckon with his hand And cry: 'Come home, O love, from banishment: Come to the distant land.'

That night destroyed me like an avalanche; One night turned all my summer back to snow: Next morning not a bird upon my branch, Not a lamb woke below,-- 80

No bird, no lamb, no living breathing thing; No squirrel scampered on my breezy lawn, No mouse lodged by his hoard: all joys took wing And fled before that dawn.

Azure and sun were starved from heaven above, No dew had fallen, but biting frost lay hoar: O love, I knew that I should meet my love, Should find my love no more.

'My love no more,' I muttered stunned with pain: I shed no tear, I wrung no passionate hand, 90 Till something whispered: 'You shall meet again, Meet in a distant land.'

Then with a cry like famine I arose, I lit my candle, searched from room to room, Searched up and down; a war of winds that froze Swept through the blank of gloom.

I searched day after day, night after night; Scant change there came to me of night or day: 'No more,' I wailed, 'no more:' and trimmed my light, And gnashed but did not pray, 100

Until my heart broke and my spirit broke: Upon the frost-bound floor I stumbled, fell, And moaned: 'It is enough: withhold the stroke. Farewell, O love, farewell.'

Then life swooned from me. And I heard the song Of spheres and spirits rejoicing over me: One cried: 'Our sister, she hath suffered long.'-- One answered: 'Make her see.'--

One cried: 'Oh blessèd she who no more pain, Who no more disappointment shall receive.'-- 110 One answered: 'Not so: she must live again; Strengthen thou her to live.'

So while I lay entranced a curtain seemed To shrivel with crackling from before my face; Across mine eyes a waxing radiance beamed And showed a certain place.

I saw a vision of a woman, where Night and new morning strive for domination; Incomparably pale, and almost fair, And sad beyond expression. 120

Her eyes were like some fire-enshrining gem, Were stately like the stars, and yet were tender; Her figure charmed me like a windy stem Quivering and drooped and slender.

I stood upon the outer barren ground, She stood on inner ground that budded flowers; While circling in their never-slackening round Danced by the mystic hours.

But every flower was lifted on a thorn, And every thorn shot upright from its sands 130 To gall her feet; hoarse laughter pealed in scorn With cruel clapping hands.