Chapter 11

What can I give Him, Poor as I am? If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb, If I were a wise man I would do my part,-- Yet what I can I give Him, Give my heart.

BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON.

B.C. 570.

Here, where I dwell, I waste to skin and bone; The curse is come upon me, and I waste In penal torment powerless to atone. The curse is come on me, which makes no haste And doth not tarry, crushing both the proud Hard man and him the sinner double-faced. Look not upon me, for my soul is bowed Within me, as my body in this mire; My soul crawls dumb-struck, sore bestead and cowed As Sodom and Gomorrah scourged by fire, As Jericho before God's trumpet-peal, So we the elect ones perish in His ire. Vainly we gird on sackcloth, vainly kneel With famished faces toward Jerusalem: His heart is shut against us not to feel, His ears against our cry He shutteth them, His hand He shorteneth that He will not save, His law is loud against us to condemn: And we, as unclean bodies in the grave Inheriting corruption and the dark, Are outcast from His presence which we crave. Our Mercy hath departed from His Ark, Our Glory hath departed from His rest, Our Shield hath left us naked as a mark Unto all pitiless eyes made manifest. Our very Father hath forsaken us, Our God hath cast us from Him: we oppress'd Unto our foes are even marvellous, A hissing and a butt for pointing hands, Whilst God Almighty hunts and grinds us thus; For He hath scattered us in alien lands, Our priests, our princes, our anointed king, And bound us hand and foot with brazen bands. Here while I sit, my painful heart takes wing Home to the home-land I may see no more, Where milk and honey flow, where waters spring And fail not, where I dwelt in days of yore Under my fig-tree and my fruitful vine, There where my parents dwelt at ease before: Now strangers press the olives that are mine, Reap all the corners of my harvest-field, And make their fat hearts wanton with my wine; To them my trees, to them my gardens yield Their sweets and spices and their tender green, O'er them in noontide heat outspread their shield. Yet these are they whose fathers had not been Housed with my dogs; whom hip and thigh we smote And with their blood washed their pollutions clean, Purging the land which spewed them from its throat; Their daughters took we for a pleasant prey, Choice tender ones on whom the fathers dote: Now they in turn have led our own away; Our daughters and our sisters and our wives Sore weeping as they weep who curse the day, To live, remote from help, dishonoured lives, Soothing their drunken masters with a song, Or dancing in their golden tinkling gyves-- Accurst if they remember through the long Estrangement of their exile, twice accursed If they forget and join the accursèd throng. How doth my heart that is so wrung not burst When I remember that my way was plain, And that God's candle lit me at the first, Whilst now I grope in darkness, grope in vain, Desiring but to find Him Who is lost, To find him once again, but once again! His wrath came on us to the uttermost, His covenanted and most righteous wrath. Yet this is He of Whom we made our boast, Who lit the Fiery Pillar in our path, Who swept the Red Sea dry before our feet, Who in His jealousy smote kings, and hath Sworn once to David: One shall fill thy seat Born of thy body, as the sun and moon 'Stablished for aye in sovereignty complete. O Lord, remember David, and that soon. The Glory hath departed, Ichabod! Yet now, before our sun grow dark at noon, Before we come to nought beneath Thy rod, Before we go down quick into the pit, Remember us for good, O God, our God:-- Thy Name will I remember, praising it, Though Thou forget me, though Thou hide Thy face, And blot me from the Book which Thou hast writ; Thy Name will I remember in my praise And call to mind Thy faithfulness of old, Though as a weaver Thou cut off my days And end me as a tale ends that is told.

PARADISE.

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; 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. 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, 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, O green palm branches many-leaved-- Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard, Nor heart conceived!

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.

"I WILL LIFT UP MINE EYES UNTO THE HILLS."

I am pale with sick desire, For my heart is far away From this world's fitful fire And this world's waning day; In a dream it overleaps A world of tedious ills To where the sunshine sleeps On the everlasting hills.-- Say the Saints: There Angels ease us Glorified and white. They say: We rest in Jesus, Where is not day or night.

My soul saith: I have sought For a home that is not gained, I have spent yet nothing bought, Have laboured but not attained; My pride strove to mount and grow, And hath but dwindled down; My love sought love, and lo! Hath not attained its crown.-- Say the Saints: Fresh souls increase us, None languish or recede. They say: We love our Jesus, And He loves us indeed.

I cannot rise above, I cannot rest beneath, I cannot find out love, Or escape from death; Dear hopes and joys gone by Still mock me with a name; My best belovèd die, And I cannot die with them.-- Say the Saints: No deaths decrease us, Where our rest is glorious. They say: We live in Jesus, Who once died for us.

O my soul, she beats her wings And pants to fly away Up to immortal things In the heavenly day: Yet she flags and almost faints; Can such be meant for me?-- Come and see, say the Saints. Saith Jesus: Come and see. Say the Saints: His pleasures please us Before God and the Lamb. Come and taste My sweets, saith Jesus: Be with Me where I am.

SAINTS AND ANGELS.

It's oh in Paradise that I fain would be, Away from earth and weariness and all beside; Earth is too full of loss with its dividing sea, But Paradise upbuilds the bower for the bride.

Where flowers are yet in bud while the boughs are green, I would get quit of earth and get robed for heaven; Putting on my raiment white within the screen, Putting on my crown of gold whose gems are seven

Fair is the fourfold river that maketh no moan, Fair are the trees fruit-bearing of the wood, Fair are the gold and bdellium and the onyx stone, And I know the gold of that land is good.

O my love, my dove, lift up your eyes Toward the eastern gate like an opening rose; You and I who parted will meet in Paradise, Pass within and sing when the gates unclose.

This life is but the passage of a day, This life is but a pang and all is over; But in the life to come which fades not away Every love shall abide and every lover.

He who wore out pleasure and mastered all lore, Solomon, wrote "Vanity of vanities:" Down to death, of all that went before In his mighty long life, the record is this.

With loves by the hundred, wealth beyond measure, Is this he who wrote "Vanity of vanities"? Yea, "Vanity of vanities" he saith of pleasure, And of all he learned set his seal to this.

Yet we love and faint not, for our love is one, And we hope and flag not, for our hope is sure, Although there be nothing new beneath the sun And no help for life and for death no cure.

The road to death is life, the gate of life is death, We who wake shall sleep, we shall wax who wane; Let us not vex our souls for stoppage of a breath, The fall of a river that turneth not again.

Be the road short, and be the gate near,-- Shall a short road tire, a strait gate appall? The loves that meet in Paradise shall cast out fear, And Paradise hath room for you and me and all.

"WHEN MY HEART IS VEXED, I WILL COMPLAIN."

"O Lord, how canst Thou say Thou lovest me? Me whom thou settest in a barren land, Hungry and thirsty on the burning sand, Hungry and thirsty where no waters be Nor shadows of date-bearing tree:-- O Lord, how canst Thou say Thou lovest me?"

"I came from Edom by as parched a track, As rough a track beneath My bleeding feet. I came from Edom seeking thee, and sweet I counted bitterness; I turned not back But counted life as death, and trod The winepress all alone: and I am God."

"Yet, Lord, how canst Thou say Thou lovest me? For Thou art strong to comfort: and could I But comfort one I love, who, like to die, Lifts feeble hands and eyes that fail to see In one last prayer for comfort--nay, I could not stand aside or turn away."

"Alas! thou knowest that for thee I died For thee I thirsted with the dying thirst; I, Blessed, for thy sake was counted cursed, In sight of men and angels crucified: All this and more I bore to prove My love, and wilt thou yet mistrust My love?"

"Lord, I am fain to think Thou lovest me, For Thou art all in all and I am Thine; And lo! Thy love is better than new wine, And I am sick of love in loving Thee. But dost Thou love me? speak and save, For jealousy is cruel as the grave."

"Nay, if thy love is not an empty breath My love is as thine own--deep answers deep. Peace, peace: I give to my beloved sleep, Not death but sleep, for love is strong as death: Take patience; sweet thy sleep shall be, Yea, thou shalt wake in Paradise with Me."

AFTER COMMUNION.

Why should I call Thee Lord, Who art my God? Why should I call Thee Friend, Who art my Love? Or King, Who art my very Spouse above? Or call Thy Sceptre on my heart Thy rod? Lo, now Thy banner over me is love, All heaven flies open to me at Thy nod: For Thou hast lit Thy flame in me a clod, Made me a nest for dwelling of Thy Dove. What wilt Thou call me in our home above, Who now hast called me friend? how will it be When Thou for good wine settest forth the best? Now Thou dost bid me come and sup with Thee, Now Thou dost make me lean upon Thy breast: How will it be with me in time of love?

A ROSE PLANT IN JERICHO.

At morn I plucked a rose and gave it Thee, A rose of joy and happy love and peace, A rose with scarce a thorn: But in the chillness of a second morn My rose bush drooped, and all its gay increase Was but one thorn that wounded me.

I plucked the thorn and offered it to Thee; And for my thorn Thou gavest love and peace, Not joy this mortal morn: If Thou hast given much treasure for a thorn, Wilt thou not give me for my rose increase Of gladness, and all sweets to me?

My thorny rose, my love and pain, to Thee I offer; and I set my heart in peace, And rest upon my thorn: For verily I think to-morrow morn Shall bring me Paradise, my gift's increase, Yea, give Thy very Self to me.

WHO SHALL DELIVER ME?

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, 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, 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.

DEVOTIONAL PIECES.

DESPISED AND REJECTED.

My sun has set, I dwell In darkness as a dead man out of sight; And none remains, not one, that I should tell To him mine evil plight This bitter night. I will make fast my door That hollow friends may trouble me no more.

"Friend, open to Me."--Who is this that calls? Nay, I am deaf as are my walls: Cease crying, for I will not hear Thy cry of hope or fear. Others were dear, Others forsook me: what art thou indeed That I should heed Thy lamentable need? Hungry should feed, Or stranger lodge thee here?

"Friend, My Feet bleed. Open thy door to Me and comfort Me." I will not open, trouble me no more. Go on thy way footsore, I will not rise and open unto thee.

"Then is it nothing to thee? Open, see Who stands to plead with thee. Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou One day entreat My Face And howl for grace, And I be deaf as thou art now. Open to Me."

Then I cried out upon him: Cease, Leave me in peace: Fear not that I should crave Aught thou mayst have. Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more, Lest I arise and chase thee from my door. What, shall I not be let Alone, that thou dost vex me yet?

But all night long that voice spake urgently: "Open to Me." Still harping in mine ears: "Rise, let Me in." Pleading with tears: "Open to Me that I may come to thee." While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were cold: "My Feet bleed, see My Face, See My Hands bleed that bring thee grace, My Heart doth bleed for thee, Open to Me."

So till the break of day: Then died away That voice, in silence as of sorrow; Then footsteps echoing like a sigh Passed me by, Lingering footsteps slow to pass. On the morrow I saw upon the grass Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door The mark of blood forevermore.

LONG BARREN.

Thou who didst hang upon a barren tree, My God, for me; Though I till now be barren, now at length, Lord, give me strength To bring forth fruit to Thee.

Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn, Spitting and scorn; Though I till now have put forth thorns, yet now Strengthen me Thou That better fruit be borne.

Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots, Vine of sweet fruits, Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf, Of thousands Chief, Feed Thou my feeble shoots.

IF ONLY.

If I might only love my God and die! But now He bids me love Him and live on, Now when the bloom of all my life is gone, The pleasant half of life has quite gone by. My tree of hope is lopped that spread so high, And I forget how summer glowed and shone, While autumn grips me with its fingers wan, And frets me with its fitful windy sigh. When autumn passes then must winter numb, And winter may not pass a weary while, But when it passes spring shall flower again: And in that spring who weepeth now shall smile, Yea, they shall wax who now are on the wane, Yea, they shall sing for love when Christ shall come.

DOST THOU NOT CARE?

I love and love not: Lord, it breaks my heart To love and not to love. Thou veiled within Thy glory, gone apart Into Thy shrine, which is above, Dost Thou not love me, Lord, or care For this mine ill?-- _I love thee here or there,_ _I will accept thy broken heart, lie still._

Lord, it was well with me in time gone by That cometh not again, When I was fresh and cheerful, who but I? I fresh, I cheerful: worn with pain Now, out of sight and out of heart; O Lord, how long?-- _I watch thee as thou art,_ _I will accept thy fainting heart, be strong._

"Lie still," "be strong," to-day; but, Lord, to-morrow, What of to-morrow, Lord? Shall there be rest from toil, be truce from sorrow, Be living green upon the sward Now but a barren grave to me, Be joy for sorrow?-- _Did I not die for thee?_ _Do I not live for thee? leave Me to-morrow._

WEARY IN WELL-DOING.

I would have gone; God bade me stay: I would have worked; God bade me rest. He broke my will from day to day, He read my yearnings unexpressed, And said them nay.

Now I would stay; God bids me go: Now I would rest; God bids me work. He breaks my heart tossed to and fro, My soul is wrung with doubts that lurk And vex it so.

I go, Lord, where Thou sendest me; Day after day I plod and moil: But, Christ my God, when will it be That I may let alone my toil And rest with Thee?

MARTYRS' SONG.

We meet in joy, though we part in sorrow; We part to-night, but we meet to-morrow. Be it flood or blood the path that's trod, All the same it leads home to God: Be it furnace-fire voluminous, One like God's Son will walk with us.

What are these that glow from afar, These that lean over the golden bar, Strong as the lion, pure as the dove, With open arms and hearts of love? They the blessed ones gone before, They the blessed forevermore. Out of great tribulation they went Home to their home of Heaven-content; Through flood, or blood, or furnace-fire, To the rest that fulfils desire.

What are these that fly as a cloud, With flashing heads and faces bowed, In their mouths a victorious psalm, In their hands a robe and a palm? Welcoming angels these that shine, Your own angel, and yours, and mine; Who have hedged us both day and night On the left hand and on the right, Who have watched us both night and day Because the Devil keeps watch to slay.

Light above light, and Bliss beyond bliss, Whom words cannot utter, lo, Who is This? As a King with many crowns He stands, And our names are graven upon His hands; As a Priest, with God-uplifted eyes, He offers for us His Sacrifice; As the Lamb of God for sinners slain, That we too may live He lives again; As our Champion behold Him stand, Strong to save us, at God's Right Hand.

God the Father give us grace To walk in the light of Jesus' Face. God the Son give us a part In the hiding-place of Jesus' Heart: God the Spirit so hold us up That we may drink of Jesus' cup.

Death is short and life is long; Satan is strong, but Christ more strong. At His Word, Who hath led us hither, The Red Sea must part hither and thither. At His Word, Who goes before us too, Jordan must cleave to let us through.

Yet one pang, searching and sore, And then Heaven forevermore; Yet one moment awful and dark, Then safety within the Veil and the Ark; Yet one effort by Christ His grace, Then Christ forever face to face.

God the Father we will adore, In Jesus' Name, now and evermore: God the Son we will love and thank In this flood and on the farther bank: God the Holy Ghost we will praise, In Jesus' Name, through endless days: God Almighty, God Three in One, God Almighty, God alone.

AFTER THIS THE JUDGMENT.