| |
| THEY sat in silent watchfulness | |
| The sacred cypress-tree about, | |
| And, from beneath old wrinkled brows, | |
| Their failing eyes looked out. | |
| |
| Gray Age and Sickness waiting there | 5 |
| Through weary night and lingering day, | |
| Grim as the idols at their side, | |
| And motionless as they. | |
| |
| Unheeded in the boughs above | |
| The song of Ceylon’s birds was sweet; | 10 |
| Unseen of them the island flowers | |
| Bloomed brightly at their feet. | |
| |
| O’er them the tropic night-storm swept, | |
| The thunder crashed on rock and hill; | |
| The cloud-fire on their eyeballs blazed, | 15 |
| Yet there they waited still! | |
| |
| What was the world without to them? | |
| The Moslem’s sunset-call,—the dance | |
| Of Ceylon’s maids,—the passing gleam | |
| Of battle-flag and lance? | 20 |
| |
| They waited for that falling leaf | |
| Of which the wandering Jogees sing: | |
| Which lends once more to wintry age | |
| The greenness of its spring. | |
| |
| Oh, if these poor and blinded ones | 25 |
| In trustful patience wait to feel | |
| O’er torpid pulse and failing limb | |
| A youthful freshness steal; | |
| |
| Shall we, who sit beneath that Tree | |
| Whose healing leaves of life are shed, | 30 |
| In answer to the breath of prayer, | |
| Upon the waiting head; | |
| |
| Not to restore our failing forms, | |
| And build the spirit’s broken shrine, | |
| But on the fainting soul to shed | 35 |
| A light and life divine; | |
| |
| Shall we grow weary in our watch, | |
| And murmur at the long delay? | |
| Impatient of our Father’s time | |
| And his appointed way? | 40 |
| |
| Or shall the stir of outward things | |
| Allure and claim the Christian’s eye, | |
| When on the heathen watcher’s ear | |
| Their powerless murmurs die? | |
| |
| Alas! a deeper test of faith | 45 |
| Than prison cell or martyr’s stake, | |
| The self-abasing watchfulness | |
| Of silent prayer may make. | |
| |
| We gird us bravely to rebuke | |
| Our erring brother in the wrong,— | 50 |
| And in the ear of Pride and Power | |
| Our warning voice is strong. | |
| |
| Easier to smite with Peter’s sword | |
| Than “watch one hour” in humbling prayer. | |
| Life’s “great things,” like the Syrian lord, | 55 |
| Our hearts can do and dare. | |
| |
| But oh! we shrink from Jordan’s side, | |
| From waters which alone can save; | |
| And murmur for Abana’s banks | |
| And Pharpar’s brighter wave. | 60 |
| |
| O Thou, who in the garden’s shade | |
| Didst wake thy weary ones again, | |
| Who slumbered at that fearful hour | |
| Forgetful of thy pain; | |
| |
| Bend o’er us now, as over them, | 65 |
| And set our sleep-bound spirits free, | |
| Nor leave us slumbering in the watch | |
| Our souls should keep with thee! | |
| |
