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By Esaias Tegnér
PENTECOST, day of rejoicing, had come. | |
| The church of the village | |
| Gleaming stood in the morning’s sheen. | |
| On the spire of the belfry, | |
| Decked with a brazen cock, the friendly flames of the Spring-sun | 5 |
| Glanced like the tongues of fire, beheld by Apostles aforetime. | |
| Clear was the heaven and blue, and May, with her cap crowned with roses, | |
| Stood in her holiday dress in the fields, and the wind and the brooklet | |
| Murmured gladness and peace, God’s-peace! with lips rosy-tinted | |
| Whispered the race of the flowers, and merry on balancing branches | 10 |
| Birds were singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to the Highest. | |
| Swept and clean was the churchyard. Adorned like a leaf-woven arbor | |
| Stood its old-fashioned gate; and within upon each cross of iron | |
| Hung was a fragrant garland, new twined by the hands of affection. | |
| Even the dial, that stood on a mound among the departed, | 15 |
| (There full a hundred years had it stood,) was embellished with blossoms. | |
| Like to the patriarch hoary, the sage of his kith and the hamlet, | |
| Who on his birthday is crowned by children and children’s children, | |
| So stood the ancient prophet, and mute with his pencil of iron | |
| Marked on the tablet of stone, and measured the time and its changes, | 20 |
| While all around at his feet, an eternity slumbered in quiet. | |
| Also the church within was adorned, for this was the season | |
| When the young, their parents’ hope, and the loved-ones of heaven, | |
| Should at the foot of the altar renew the vows of their baptism. | |
| Therefore each nook and corner was swept and cleaned, and the dust was | 25 |
| Blown from the walls and ceiling, and from the oil-painted benches. | |
| There stood the church like a garden; the Feast of the Leafy Pavilions | |
| Saw we in living presentment. From noble arms on the church wall | |
| Grew forth a cluster of leaves, and the preacher’s pulpit of oak-wood | |
| Budded once more anew, as aforetime the rod before Aaron. | 30 |
| Wreathed thereon was the Bible with leaves, and the dove, washed with silver, | |
| Under its canopy fastened, had on it a necklace of wind-flowers. | |
| But in front of the choir, round the altar-piece painted by Hörberg, | |
| Crept a garland gigantic; and bright-curling tresses of angels | |
| Peeped, like the sun from a cloud, from out of the shadowy leaf-work. | 35 |
| Likewise the lustre of brass, new-polished, blinked from the ceiling, | |
| And for lights there were lilies of Pentecost set in the sockets. | |
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| Loud rang the bells already; the thronging crowd was assembled | |
| Far from valleys and hills, to list to the holy preaching. | |
| Hark! then roll forth at once the mighty tones of the organ, | 40 |
| Hover like voices from God, aloft like invisible spirits. | |
| Like as Elias in heaven, when he cast from off him his mantle, | |
| So cast off the soul its garments of earth; and with one voice | |
| Chimed in the congregation, and sang an anthem immortal | |
| Of the sublime Wallín, of David’s harp in the North-land | 45 |
| Tuned to the choral of Luther; the song on its mighty pinions | |
| Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to heaven, | |
| And each face did shine like the Holy One’s face upon Tabor. | |
| Lo! there entered then into the church the Reverend Teacher. | |
| Father he hight and he was in the parish; a Christianly plainness | 50 |
| Clothed from his head to his feet the old man of seventy winters. | |
| Friendly was he to behold, and glad as the heralding angel | |
| Walked he among the crowds, but still a contemplative grandeur | |
| Lay on his forehead as clear as on moss-covered gravestone a sunbeam. | |
| As in his inspiration (an evening twilight that faintly | 55 |
| Gleams in the human soul, even now, from the day of creation) | |
| Th’ Artist, the friend of heaven, imagines Saint John when in Patmos, | |
| Gray, with his eyes uplifted to heaven, so seemed then the old man; | |
| Such was the glance of his eye, and such were his tresses of silver. | |
| All the congregation arose in the pews that were numbered. | 60 |
| But with a cordial look, to the right and the left hand, the old man | |
| Nodding all hail and peace, disappeared in the innermost chancel. | |
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| Simply and solemnly now proceeded the Christian service, | |
| Singing and prayer, and at last an ardent discourse from the old man. | |
| Many a moving word and warning, that out of the heart came, | 65 |
| Fell like the dew of the morning, like manna on those in the desert. | |
| Then, when all was finished, the Teacher reëntered the chancel, | |
| Followed therein by the young. The boys on the right had their places, | |
| Delicate figures, with close-curling hair and cheeks rosy-blooming. | |
| But on the left of these there stood the tremulous lilies, | 70 |
| Tinged with the blushing light of the dawn, the diffident maidens,— | |
| Folding their hands in prayer, and their eyes cast down on the pavement. | |
| Now came, with question and answer, the catechism. In the beginning | |
| Answered the children with troubled and faltering voice, but the old man’s | |
| Glances of kindness encouraged them soon, and the doctrines eternal | 75 |
| Flowed, like the waters of fountains, so clear from lips unpolluted. | |
| Each time the answer was closed, and as oft as they named the Redeemer, | |
| Lowly louted the boys, and lowly the maidens all courtesied. | |
| Friendly the Teacher stood, like an angel of light there among them, | |
| And to the children explained the holy, the highest, in few words, | 80 |
| Thorough, yet simple and clear, for sublimity always is simple, | |
| Both in sermon and song, a child can seize on its meaning. | |
| E’en as the green-growing bud unfolds when Springtide approaches, | |
| Leaf by leaf puts forth, and, warmed by the radiant sunshine, | |
| Blushes with purple and gold, till at last the perfected blossom | 85 |
| Opens its odorous chalice, and rocks with its crown in the breezes, | |
| So was unfolded here the Christian lore of salvation, | |
| Line by line from the soul of childhood. The fathers and mothers | |
| Stood behind them in tears, and were glad at the well-worded answer. | |
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| Now went the old man up to the altar;—and straightway transfigured | 90 |
| (So did it seem unto me) was then the affectionate Teacher. | |
| Like the Lord’s Prophet sublime, and awful as Death and as Judgment | |
| Stood he, the God-commissioned, the soul-searcher, earthward descending. | |
| Glances, sharp as a sword, into hearts that to him were transparent | |
| Shot he; his voice was deep, was low like the thunder afar off. | 95 |
| So on a sudden transfigured he stood there, he spake and he questioned. | |
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| “This is the faith of the Fathers, the faith the Apostles delivered, | |
| This is moreover the faith whereunto I baptized you, while still ye | |
| Lay on your mother’s breasts, and nearer the portals of heaven. | |
| Slumbering received you then the Holy Church in its bosom; | 100 |
| Wakened from sleep are ye now, and the light in its radiant splendor | |
| Downward rains from the heaven;—to-day on the threshold of childhood | |
| Kindly she frees you again, to examine and make your election, | |
| For she knows naught of compulsion, and only conviction desireth. | |
| This is the hour of your trial, the turning-point of existence, | 105 |
| Seed for the coming days; without revocation departeth | |
| Now from your lips the confession. Bethink ye, before ye make answer! | |
| Think not, oh think not with guile to deceive the questioning Teacher. | |
| Sharp is his eye to-day, and a curse ever rests upon falsehood. | |
| Enter not with a lie on Life’s journey; the multitude hears you, | 110 |
| Brothers and sisters and parents, what dear upon earth is and holy | |
| Standeth before your sight as a witness; the Judge everlasting | |
| Looks from the sun down upon you, and angels in waiting beside him | |
| Grave your confession in letters of fire upon tablets eternal. | |
| Thus, then,—believe ye in God, in the Father who this world created? | 115 |
| Him who redeemed it, the Son, and the Spirit where both are united? | |
| Will ye promise me here, (a holy promise!) to cherish | |
| God more than all things earthly, and every man as a brother? | |
| Will ye promise me here, to confirm your faith by your living, | |
| Th’ heavenly faith of affection! to hope, to forgive, and to suffer, | 120 |
| Be what it may your condition, and walk before God in uprightness? | |
| Will ye promise me this before God and man?”—With a clear voice | |
| Answered the young men Yes! and Yes! with lips softly-breathing | |
| Answered the maidens eke. Then dissolved from the brow of the Teacher | |
| Clouds with the lightnings therein, and he spake in accents more gentle, | 125 |
| Soft as the evening’s breath, as harps by Babylon’s rivers. | |
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| “Hail, then, hail to you all! To the heirdom of heaven be ye welcome! | |
| Children no more from this day, but by covenant brothers and sisters! | |
| Yet,—for what reason not children? Of such is the kingdom of heaven. | |
| Here upon earth an assemblage of children, in heaven one Father, | 130 |
| Ruling them all as his household,—forgiving in turn and chastising, | |
| That is of human life a picture, as Scripture has taught us. | |
| Blest are the pure before God! Upon purity and upon virtue | |
| Resteth the Christian Faith; she herself from on high is descended. | |
| Strong as a man and pure as a child, is the sum of the doctrine, | 135 |
| Which the Divine One taught, and suffered and died on the cross for. | |
| Oh, as ye wander this day from childhood’s sacred asylum | |
| Downward, and ever downward, and deeper in Age’s chill valley, | |
| Oh, how soon will ye come,—too soon!—and long to turn backward | |
| Up to its hill-tops again, to the sun-illumined, where Judgment | 140 |
| Stood like a father before you, and Pardon, clad like a mother, | |
| Gave you her hand to kiss, and the loving heart was forgiven, | |
| Life was a play and your hands grasped after the roses of heaven! | |
| Seventy years have I lived already; the Father eternal | |
| Gave me gladness and care; but the loveliest hours of existence, | 145 |
| When I have steadfastly gazed in their eyes, I have instantly known them, | |
| Known them all again;—they were my childhood’s acquaintance. | |
| Therefore take from henceforth, as guides in the paths of existence, | |
| Prayer, with her eyes raised to heaven, and Innocence, bride of man’s childhood. | |
| Innocence, child beloved, is a guest from the world of the blessed, | 150 |
| Beautiful, and in her hand a lily; on life’s roaring billows | |
| Swings she in safety, she heedeth them not, in the ship she is sleeping. | |
| Calmly she gazes around in the turmoil of men; in the desert | |
| Angels descend and minister unto her; she herself knoweth | |
| Naught of her glorious attendance; but follows faithful and humble, | 155 |
| Follows so long as she may her friend; oh do not reject her, | |
| For she cometh from God and she holdeth the keys of the heavens. | |
| Prayer is Innocence’ friend; and willingly flieth incessant | |
| ’Twixt the earth and the sky, the carrier-pigeon of heaven. | |
| Son of Eternity, fettered in Time, and an exile, the Spirit | 160 |
| Tugs at his chains evermore, and struggles like flame ever upward. | |
| Still he recalls with emotion his Father’s manifold mansions, | |
| Thinks of the land of his fathers, where blossomed more freshly the flowerets, | |
| Shone a more beautiful sun, and he played with the wingèd angels. | |
| Then grows the earth too narrow, too close; and homesick for heaven | 165 |
| Longs the wanderer again; and the Spirit’s longings are worship; | |
| Worship is called his most beautiful hour, and its tongue is entreaty. | |
| Ah! when the infinite burden of life descendeth upon us, | |
| Crushes to earth our hope, and, under the earth, in the graveyard, | |
| Then it is good to pray unto God; for his sorrowing children | 170 |
| Turns He ne’er from his door, but He heals and helps and consoles them. | |
| Yet is it better to pray when all things are prosperous with us, | |
| Pray in fortunate days, for life’s most beautiful Fortune | |
| Kneels before the Eternal’s throne; and with hands interfolded, | |
| Praises thankful and moved the only giver of blessings. | 175 |
| Or do ye know, ye children, one blessing that comes not from Heaven? | |
| What has mankind forsooth, the poor! that it has not received? | |
| Therefore, fall in the dust and pray! The seraphs adoring | |
| Cover with pinions six their face in the glory of Him who | |
| Hung his masonry pendent on naught, when the world He created. | 180 |
| Earth declareth his might, and the firmament utters his glory. | |
| Races blossom and die, and stars fall downward from heaven, | |
| Downward like withered leaves; at the last stroke of midnight, millenniums | |
| Lay themselves down at his feet, and He sees them, but counts them as nothing. | |
| Who shall stand in his presence? The wrath of the Judge is terrific, | 185 |
| Casting the insolent down at a glance. When He speaks in his anger | |
| Hillocks skip like the kid, and mountains leap like the roebuck. | |
| Yet,—why are ye afraid, ye children? This awful avenger, | |
| Ah! is a merciful God! God’s voice was not in the earthquake, | |
| Not in the fire, nor the storm, but it was in the whispering breezes. | 190 |
| Love is the root of creation; God’s essence; worlds without number | |
| Lie in his bosom like children; He made them for this purpose only. | |
| Only to love and to be loved again, He breathed forth his spirit | |
| Into the slumbering dust, and upright standing, it laid its | |
| Hand on its heart, and felt it was warm with a flame out of heaven. | 195 |
| Quench, oh quench not that flame! It is the breath of your being. | |
| Love is life, but hatred is death. Not father nor mother | |
| Loved you, as God has loved you; for ’t was that you may be happy | |
| Gave He his only Son. When He bowed down his head in the death-hour | |
| Solemnized Love its triumph; the sacrifice then was completed. | 200 |
| Lo! then was rent on a sudden the veil of the temple, dividing | |
| Earth and heaven apart, and the dead from their sepulchres rising | |
| Whispered with pallid lips and low in the ears of each other | |
| Th’ answer, but dreamed of before, to creation’s enigma,—Atonement! | |
| Depths of Love are Atonement’s depths, for Love is Atonement. | 205 |
| Therefore, child of mortality, love thou the merciful Father; | |
| Wish what the Holy One wishes, and not from fear, but affection; | |
| Fear is the virtue of slaves; but the heart that loveth is willing; | |
| Perfect was before God, and perfect is Love, and Love only. | |
| Lovest thou God as thou oughtest, then lovest thou likewise thy brethren; | 210 |
| One is the sun in heaven, and one, only one, is Love also. | |
| Bears not each human figure the godlike stamp on his forehead? | |
| Readest thou not in his face thine origin? Is he not sailing | |
| Lost like thyself on an ocean unknown, and is he not guided | |
| By the same stars that guide thee? Why shouldst thou hate then thy brother? | 215 |
| Hateth he thee, forgive! For’t is sweet to stammer one letter | |
| Of the Eternal’s language;—on earth it is callèd Forgiveness! | |
| Knowest thou Him, who forgave, with the crown of thorns on his temples? | |
| Earnestly prayed for his foes, for his murderers? Say, dost thou know Him? | |
| Ah! thou confessest his name, so follow likewise his example, | 220 |
| Think of thy brother no ill, but throw a veil over his failings, | |
| Guide the erring aright; for the good, the heavenly shepherd | |
| Took the lost lamb in his arms, and bore it back to its mother. | |
| This is the fruit of Love, and it is by its fruits that we know it. | |
| Love is the creature’s welfare, with God; but Love among mortals | 225 |
| Is but an endless sigh! He longs, and endures, and stands waiting, | |
| Suffers and yet rejoices, and smiles with tears on his eyelids. | |
| Hope,—so is called upon earth his recompense,—Hope, the befriending, | |
| Does what she can, for she points evermore up to heaven, and faithful | |
| Plunges her anchor’s peak in the depths of the grave, and beneath it | 230 |
| Paints a more beautiful world, a dim, but a sweet play of shadows! | |
| Races, better than we, have leaned on her wavering promise, | |
| Having naught else but Hope. Then praise we our Father in heaven, | |
| Him, who has given us more; for to us has Hope been transfigured, | |
| Groping no longer in night; she is Faith, she is living assurance. | 235 |
| Faith is enlightened Hope; she is light, is the eye of affection, | |
| Dreams of the longing interprets, and carves their visions in marble. | |
| Faith is the sun of life; and her countenance shines like the Hebrew’s, | |
| For she has looked upon God; the heaven on its stable foundation | |
| Draws she with chains down to earth, and the New Jerusalem sinketh | 240 |
| Splendid with portals twelve in golden vapors descending. | |
| There enraptured she wanders, and looks at the figures majestic, | |
| Fears not the wingèd crowd, in the midst of them all is her homestead. | |
| Therefore love and believe; for works will follow spontaneous | |
| Even as day does the sun; the Right from the Good is an offspring, | 245 |
| Love in a bodily shape; and Christian works are no more than | |
| Animate Love and Faith, as flowers are the animate Springtide. | |
| Works do follow us all unto God; there stand and bear witness | |
| Not what they seemed,—but what they were only. Blessed is he who | |
| Hears their confession secure; they are mute upon earth until death’s hand | 250 |
| Opens the mouth of the silent. Ye children, does Death e’er alarm you? | |
| Death is the brother of Love, twin-brother is he, and is only | |
| More austere to behold. With a kiss upon lips that are fading | |
| Takes he the soul and departs, and, rocked in the arms of affection, | |
| Places the ransomed child, new born, ’fore the face of its father. | 255 |
| Sounds of his coming already I hear,—see dimly his pinions, | |
| Swart as the night, but with stars strewn upon them! I fear not before him. | |
| Death is only release, and in mercy is mute. On his bosom | |
| Freer breathes, in its coolness, my breast; and face to face standing | |
| Look I on God as He is, a sun unpolluted by vapors; | 260 |
| Look on the light of the ages I loved, the spirits majestic, | |
| Nobler, better than I; they stand by the throne all transfigured, | |
| Vested in white, and with harps of gold, and are singing an anthem, | |
| Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language spoken by angels. | |
| You, in like manner, ye children beloved, He one day shall gather, | 265 |
| Never forgets He the weary;—then welcome, ye loved ones hereafter! | |
| Meanwhile forget not the keeping of vows, forget not the promise, | |
| Wander from holiness onward to holiness; earth shall ye heed not; | |
| Earth is but dust and heaven is light; I have pledged you to heaven. | |
| God of the universe, hear me! thou fountain of Love everlasting, | 270 |
| Hark to the voice of thy servant! I send up my prayer to thy heaven! | |
| Let me hereafter not miss at thy throne one spirit of all these, | |
| Whom thou hast given me here! I have loved them all like a father. | |
| May they bear witness for me, that I taught them the way of salvation, | |
| Faithful, so far as I knew, of thy word; again may they know me, | 275 |
| Fall on their Teacher’s breast, and before thy face may I place them, | |
| Pure as they now are, but only more tried, and exclaiming with gladness, | |
| Father, lo! I am here, and the children, whom thou hast given me!” | |
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| Weeping he spake in these words; and now at the beck of the old man | |
| Knee against knee they knitted a wreath round the altar’s enclosure. | 280 |
| Kneeling he read then the prayers of the consecration, and softly | |
| With him the children read; at the close, with tremulous accents, | |
| Asked he the peace of Heaven, a benediction upon them. | |
| Now should have ended his task for the day; the following Sunday | |
| Was for the young appointed to eat of the Lord’s holy Supper. | 285 |
| Sudden, as struck from the clouds, stood the Teacher silent and laid his | |
| Hand on his forehead, and cast his looks upward; while thoughts high and holy | |
| Flew through the midst of his soul, and his eyes glanced with wonderful brightness. | |
| “On the next Sunday, who knows! perhaps I shall rest in the graveyard! | |
| Some one perhaps of yourselves, a lily broken untimely, | 290 |
| Bow down his head to the earth; why delay I? the hour is accomplished. | |
| Warm is the heart;—I will! for to-day grows the harvest of heaven. | |
| What I began accomplish I now; what failing therein is | |
| I, the old man, will answer to God and the reverend father. | |
| Say to me only, ye children, ye denizens new-come in heaven, | 295 |
| Are ye ready this day to eat of the bread of Atonement? | |
| What it denoteth, that know ye full well, I have told it you often. | |
| Of the new covenant symbol it is, of Atonement a token, | |
| Stablished between earth and heaven. Man by his sins and transgressions | |
| Far has wandered from God, from his essence. ’T was in the beginning | 300 |
| Fast by the Tree of Knowledge he fell, and it hangs its crown o’er the | |
| Fall to this day; in the Thought is the Fall; in the Heart the Atonement. | |
| Infinite is the fall,—the Atonement infinite likewise. | |
| See! behind me, as far as the old man remembers, and forward, | |
| Far as Hope in her flight can reach with her wearied pinions, | 305 |
| Sin and Atonement incessant to through the lifetime of mortals, | |
| Sin is brought forth full-grown; but Atonement sleeps in our bosoms | |
| Still as the cradled babe; and dreams of heaven and of angels, | |
| Cannot awake to sensation; is like the tones in the harp’s strings, | |
| Spirits imprisoned, that wait evermore the deliverer’s finger. | 310 |
| Therefore, ye children beloved, descended the Prince of Atonement, | |
| Woke the slumberer from sleep, and she stands now with eyes all resplendent, | |
| Bright as the vault of the sky, and battles with Sin and o’ercomes her. | |
| Downward to earth He came and, transfigured, thence reascended, | |
| Not from the heart in like wise, for there He still lives in the Spirit, | 315 |
| Loves and atones evermore. So long as Time is, is Atonement. | |
| Therefore with reverence take this day her visible token. | |
| Tokens are dead if the things live not. The light everlasting | |
| Unto the blind is not, but is born of the eye that has vision. | |
| Neither in bread nor in wine, but in the heart that is hallowed | 320 |
| Lieth forgiveness enshrined; the intention alone of amendment | |
| Fruits of the earth ennobles to heavenly things, and removes all | |
| Sin and the guerdon of sin. Only Love with his arms wide extended, | |
| Penitence weeping and praying; the Will that is tried, and whose gold flows | |
| Purified forth from the flames; in a word, mankind by Atonement | 325 |
| Breaketh Atonement’s bread, and drinketh Atonement’s wine-cup. | |
| But he who cometh up hither, unworthy. with hate in his bosom, | |
| Scoffing at men and at God, is guilty of Christ’s blessed body, | |
| And the Redeemer’s blood! To himself he eateth and drinketh | |
| Death and doom! And from this, preserve us, thou heavenly Father! | 330 |
| Are ye ready, ye children, to eat of the bread of Atonement?” | |
| Thus with emotion he asked, and together answered the children, | |
| “Yes!” with deep sobs interrupted. Then read he the due supplications, | |
| Read the Form of Communion, and in chimed the organ and anthem: | |
| ’O Holy Lamb of God, who takest away our transgressions, | 335 |
| Hear us! give us thy peace! have mercy, have mercy upon us!” | |
| Th’ old man, with trembling hand, and heavenly pearls on his eyelids, | |
| Filled now the chalice and paten, and dealt round the mystical symbols. | |
| Oh, then seemed it to me as if God, with the broad eye of midday, | |
| Clearer looked in at the windows, and all the trees in the churchyard | 340 |
| Bowed down their summits of green, and the grass on the graves ’gan to shiver. | |
| But in the children (I noted it well; I knew it) there ran a | |
| Tremor of holy rapture along through their ice-cold members. | |
| Decked like an altar before them, there stood the green earth, and above it | |
| Heaven opened itself, as of old before Stephen; they saw there | 345 |
| Radiant in glory the Father, and on his right hand the Redeemer. | |
| Under them hear they the clang of harp-strings, and angels from gold clouds | |
| Beckon to them like brothers, and fan with their pinions of purple. | |
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| Closed was the Teacher’s task, and with heaven in their hearts and their faces, | |
| Up rose the children all, and each bowed him, weeping full sorely, | 350 |
| Downward to kiss that reverend hand, but all of them pressed he | |
| Moved to his bosom, and laid, with a prayer, his hands full of blessings, | |
| Now on the holy breast, and now on the innocent tresses. | |
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