Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By Poems Old and New. II. BeforeCharles Dent Bell (18191898)
W
Thro’ night unto the morning grey,
Till on the casement smote the light,
And sudden flashed the day.
With closed and heavy-lidded eye,
And murmurs as of one asleep,
And now and then a sigh.
A fragrant lily in its prime,
That fed on honey’d dew and air,
Had blossomed for a time!
Upon the little snowy bed;
The rippling of her golden hair
With glory touch’d her head.
Which faintly burnt with dull red glow,
Scarce broke the darkness with its light,
Or showed the bed of snow.
It flickered low, it flickered high;
We wondered, with a strange sad fear,
Which life should soonest die.
The close-drawn curtains were withdrawn;
There came a smell of fresh’ning rain
From off the fragrant lawn.
The sweet birds piped from every bush;
’Midst glistening boughs sang songs of love—
Sweetest of all, the thrush.
Fast held in wonder to our place,
Watching a rare and radiant smile
Transfigure all her face.
We prayed in thrilling silence near;
And down our faces flowed at will,
Unchecked, the burning tear.
There rose a sudden, startling cry,
That stayed our weeping, checked our prayer,
As came it ringing by.
She raised her trembling hands on high;
All paleness from the face had fled,
Now flushed with ecstasy.
Her parted lips did gently stir;
We felt Christ, and the Spirits seven,
Communion held with her.
As tho’ before her wondering sight
There stretched the way she must pass thro’,
All lined with angels bright.
We dared not move, or speak a word;
We knew she saw what no one saw,
And heard what no one heard.
Upon her glowing cheek and brow;
And dawnings of a brighter day
Seemed breaking on her now.
O’er quivering lip, and cheek, and brow;
We knew full well the golden bowl
Was being broken now.
And held her closely there, until
The aching head had sunk to rest,
The tossing arms were still.
The light went slowly from her eyes,
Though still beneath their lashes shone
A look of sweet surprise.
So deep the awe upon her face;
We knew her ransom’d spirit lay
Fast clasped in Christ’s embrace;
And drew her to His happy side;
Where now they walked in perfect love,
The Bridegroom and His Bride.