The soul would endure splendid martyrdoms, but her Lord lays upon her the ultimate reward of failure and of death.
I FOUND full many a hindrance on the road | |
| That led up to the summit of desire, | |
| Sharp rocks and wounding thorns; and in the mire | |
| I fell, and soiled the garment I had care | |
| To keep so fair | 5 |
| For the great rites awaiting me in Love’s abode. | |
| Yet on I pressed, | |
| Dreaming of rest | |
| That should be sweeter for toil undergone, | |
| When on my Saviour’s breast | 10 |
| Divine and human should be one. | |
| |
| Deep ran the chasms across the way, | |
| Chasms my wilfulness had made, | |
| But Love had cast a bridge above the spray | |
| Flung by the roaring waters far below; | 15 |
| And with the cross my strength, the cross my guide, | |
| My worser self for ever crucified, | |
| I climbed toward the line of snow | |
| That Love had laid | |
| Far up, to mark the final stage | 20 |
| Of chill forlorn desertion, that should close | |
| My pilgrimage. | |
| |
| High on the summit shone the mystic cross | |
| Beside which life is death, and riches dross; | |
| Not such the cross that companies my way, | 25 |
| A harsh rude copy meet for every day, | |
| Beauty it lacks, untrimmed and harsh the wood. | |
| And bitter as Christ’s rood; | |
| Heavy as death, no staff to life is this, | |
| But such a weight | 30 |
| As leaves the soul unsoothed, disconsolate, | |
| And drags the body down to the abyss. | |
| |
| Upward I crawl, the dream of joy is past, | |
| I, that would share the sorrow of my Lord | |
| And feel the piercing sword | 35 |
| Divide my flesh and spirit, now at last, | |
| Discern the failure I am forced to share, | |
| And see the garment I would keep so fair, | |
| Foul from the dirt of many a foolish fall | |
| The world might mock at. When I set my feet | 40 |
| Upon the path I said— | |
| A martyrdom were sweet; | |
| Come sword, come fire, | |
| All tortures are less sharp than my desire. | |
| Let me have flints for bed, | 45 |
| And thorns, such as once wove my Master’s crown, | |
| Spurring me on to share in His renown. | |
| And lo! I faint | |
| Beneath a common cross I cannot raise. | |
| Mankind might jeer, but on celestial praise | 50 |
| Free from all envious taint | |
| I counted; wherefore then this loneliness | |
| Weighted with death? | |
| Give me the nails, the spear, oppress | |
| My soul with every pang till my last breath, | 55 |
| And then, the victor’s wreath. | |
| |
| Yet I climbed still, the bitter words I spoke | |
| Fell into silence and no echoes woke; | |
| But in my heart a small voice murmuring | |
| Whispered,—thy King | 60 |
| Humbly exchanged celestial gain for loss, | |
| Requiring no place to lay Him down, | |
| No victor’s crown, | |
| But only wood enough to make a cross. | |
| |
| I bowed my head in shame, and upward went | 65 |
| Slowly, beneath my burden bent; | |
| Deep in the snow my bleeding feet | |
| Sank at each step, and on the sheet | |
| Of dazzling white left scarlet stains. | |
| My eyes grew blind, my trembling knees gave way, | 70 |
| My body was a mass of fiery pains: | |
| And still I rose and fell, | |
| And struggled on a space, | |
| Half dreaming broken words from far away, | |
| The heavenward way,— | 75 |
| The pains of hell,— | |
| And murmuring, weeping, falling, | |
| Upon my Master calling, | |
| Unconscious now of all save agony, | |
| I still endured, until I lay | 80 |
| On the appointed place | |
| Upon the summit, faint and like to die. | |
| |
| So, I thought, heaven is won, | |
| Gone is the burden that so long I carried; | |
| Yet still the summoning angels tarried. | 85 |
| I lay alone, | |
| Almost desiring back the fardel gone, | |
| That was my bliss and bale; | |
| And so methought a thousand years | |
| Of silence passed. | 90 |
| At last | |
| I raised my eyes to see | |
| Some angel that should bind my wounds and wipe my tears. | |
| But there was Calvary, | |
| And black and gaunt three crosses rose | 95 |
| Untenanted, among the snows. | |
| |
| Then, deep within, the silence spoke,— | |
| Now thou hast left Gethsemane, | |
| Stretch thy rebellious limbs upon the tree, | |
| Giving thy body up for Me. | 100 |
| And I obeyed, | |
| And laid | |
| My feet and hands to bear the stroke | |
| Of piercing nails. | |
| And so I hung another thousand years. | 105 |
| The wind arose, and far below me tossed | |
| A sea of sombre-crested pines; the cloudy skies | |
| Burst with the gale, and showed an orange rent, | |
| And heavy clouds, like boats with tattered sails, | |
| Flapped low, and dipped and raced about the height | 110 |
| Until they sank in mist that swathed my sight. | |
| Then I closed my eyes, | |
| And tore my way from the poor earthly tent, | |
| And free, I knew my labours all well spent, | |
| And no pang lost. | 115 |
| |
| Abandoned hung the earthly form | |
| While round it swayed and shrieked the storm; | |
| But my soul, being free, | |
| Rejoiced most thankfully, | |
| Until a voice cried,—nay, | 120 |
| Still must thou lay | |
| Thy soul upon the rood. | |
| So my stripped soul was fastened there, | |
| And that cross stood | |
| Beside the centre, towering gaunt and bare | 125 |
| While other thousand years went by; | |
| Till my purged spirit burst its sheath, | |
| And free of soul and body knelt beneath | |
| The triple emblem of a conquered death. | |
| |
| Now let my spirit rise to God who gave— | 130 |
| Not through the grave, | |
| But upward into light. | |
| Aye, chanted seraphs with their dulcimers, | |
| The ladder it prefers | |
| Is the great midmost cross. | 135 |
| My spirit trembled, but I clomb— | |
| Ah, then fell night; | |
| This, this is not my home. | |
| And in a horror far too deep to tell | |
| I knew the pains of hell, | 140 |
| And for a thousand years I drank this bitter cup, | |
| Until my spirit yielded itself up, | |
| And hands of love | |
| Stretched from above | |
| Upraised me in a most delicious rest, | 145 |
| Upon that cross and ladder of delight, | |
| Which now I knew was but my Master’s breast | |
