Classic Poem

A voice then spake —
The voice of one joy-hearted, soft and clear
As bells at early morn, on that blest day,
Named in the breast-laws of each starry orb,
Wherein Eternity entwines with Time
Its golden strands and weds the world to Heaven; —
Arise! come forth, beloved sister, rise.

How blest am I to serve thee, to release!
Nor doubt, nor wait. Behold thy handmaid me.
Gifts bring I for thee, gifts of countless price —
Of priceless worth. Thy lover Lord commands
Array thee for the bridals. Lo! the new
And shining robes, by heavenly fingers wrought, —
Fit for the form divine of her whose love
Is hallowed in the eternal rites of Heaven.
So shall we dwell together here in bliss,
Till He shall come who ever comes to all
His promise sanctifies. Improve the hour
Which yet remains, in all obedience clear;
And deck thyself in weeds of righteousness,
With jewels of good deeds adorned, and clad
In golden garments redolent of praise.
For infinite is every gift of His
Divine bestowing; and Salvation's cup,
And Nature's, He to overflowing fills.

With joy I heard — I saw. Nor longer then
Awaited, but where most the starlands crowd
The potent north, soared upwards, space by space,
And firmament by firmament of stars,
Leaving in turn behind; passing unharmed
Upon the verge of Being, where the path
Narrows to almost nothing, the monsters foul
Earth-dust and Death-night — things ye know not of —
Yet fatal beasts to all who, me before,
That way had urged. But God hath favoured me.
And nigh thereto, the Golgotha of worlds —
The charnel-house of Time — where skull-like orbs,
Extinct of life, with rotten, sickly light
Defiled the purview, and advance delayed;
Yet shrinking nought, though shuddering, passed I on,
Through all uncleanness, clean, all foulness, pure.

Hungered, athirst and faint with fasting, still,
My purposed way I held, till bright afar,
The kindly radiance of this angel world
Beaconed me hither — and I came. Ye now,
Thanks for your holy hospitality,
Behold me journeying to the city of God ,
There to prefer my prayers and plead for those
Whom still I love, though drawn aside to trust
The natural strength allotted them, and not —
With sole reliance — God ; who thus to all
By failure e'en of angels, when He wills,
Asserts in all, His high supremacy.

Let whoso feels in holy will inspired,
Me to accompany, speak — to that bright throne
Where God our Father in all glory sits,
The world in holy audience at His feet; —
And there, with me, while giving praise for all,
His word hath made and saved, for those not yet
Redeemed, pray ceaselessly.

Uprising then
As 'twere a constellation, suddenly,
Seven of those gracious angels pressed around,
Eager for friendly escort; when the chief
Cherub who welcomed first that pilgrim bright,
Thus said; — Another holy day made blest
By our dear guest — how different he from those
Deceptive friends he tells of! — hath now slid
Into the passive strength-restoring night;
Rest also ye.

Such is mine own intent
Replied the eloquent guest; and less for that,
These life-triedlimbs have gone through, than their sakes,
Who know not half the flight they meditate.

Then worship before rest; as was the wont
In every alternation of the day,
Ere action or refreshment or repose.
Last, on their happy couches, odorous all
Of flowery incense, lay the angels down;
Shading their faces with the plumy gold
Of their space searching pinions; sacred sleep
Stealing the starry wonders of their eyes,
And with divinest visions hallowing all.